The Long Road Home
by Ashwinder
Summary: *Epilogue uploaded. COMPLETE* Sequel to Ginny's Gift. Read that story first. Harry must deal with the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.
1. Chapter 1

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The Long Road Home, Chapter One

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This story is dedicated to Maid Marian. She basically wrote a good bit of this chapter, because I couldn't get it going. More at the end.

Harry slept late his first full day back at the Burrow. When he opened his eyes at last, the angle of the sun told him that the morning was already more than half gone, but he made no move to get out of bed. He lay and stared at the orange ceiling overhead, not really wanting to get up. If he did that, there might be questions he didn't want to answer. 

He still hadn't told the elder Weasleys about the consequences of the spell he'd used to banish Voldemort, but he was probably going to have to do that today. He couldn't hope to hide the fact that he no longer possessed any magical powers. No, if he got up, the twins might ask him to play Quidditch in the orchard, and he'd be obliged to tell them he could no longer fly.

He quickly pushed that idea aside. He didn't want to think about flying at the moment. He shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch the Chudley Cannons score yet another spectacular goal. That was something he might have liked to try himself--professional Quidditch. But that was out of the question now.

In fact, he didn't know what he would be doing with his life now that he'd finished school. He knew he couldn't live here at the Burrow indefinitely. He was supposed to be an adult now; he was supposed to be independent. He was supposed to do something useful. But what could he possibly do now?

He thought of all the gold in his Gringott's vault and wondered how many years it would last. There was rather less of it now than there had been the first time he'd laid eyes on it at the age of eleven. Seven years of Hogwarts tuition and school supplies had seen to that. And now he'd be responsible for renting a flat, putting food on the table, clothing himself…

He threw back the covers with a sigh of frustration. He might as well get up if his thoughts were going to keep betraying him like this. The room was empty as he expected it to be. Ron would have got up hours ago. 

Harry hastily threw on some clothes and ran a comb through his hair without even bothering to look in the mirror. He didn't want to see his unshaven reflection staring back at him. Unconsciously he reached up and scratched at his chin. He was going to have to go into the village at some point if he was going to get rid of this beard. It was itchy; it didn't do anything for his appearance; and most of all, it was a daily reminder that he'd lost his powers.

Harry padded in the general direction of the kitchen. The house was remarkably quiet considering the number of people living there at the moment. The twins had moved back home while the village of Hogsmeade was being rebuilt, and Harry discovered yesterday on his arrival, George had brought his girlfriend, Pauline, along with him. She'd been staying in Ginny's room, but now that term was over, Ginny and Hermione were also crammed in there.

Bill was there, too, staying in Percy's old room. From what Harry could gather based on the previous night's dinner conversation, Bill wasn't sure what he'd be doing in the near future. He'd left his job at Gringott's to join the Order's forces, and while he was on leave at the moment, he could be recalled to duty at any time. It was hoped that Harry's spell had permanently dispatched Voldemort, but close watch was still being kept. Attempts were also being made to round up the remaining Death Eaters. Sirius and Remus were both involved with this, keeping a close eye out for Peter Pettigrew. Bill reckoned he still might be summoned to active duty, although that chance seemed to lessen with each day that passed.

With all these people in the house, it came as a surprise to Harry when he arrived in the kitchen to find it empty. Mr Weasley was at the Ministry, of course, but the others ought to be about somewhere. "Everyone must be outside," he said to himself. "Just as well. I'm not hungry anyway."

A noise made him halt in the middle of the kitchen. Someone was coming in, and Harry noticed he was standing in front of the fireplace, over which hung a mirror. A sudden memory struck him, one from a summer six years previous, when he'd been surprised by this very mirror telling him off for an un-tucked shirttail. It was now behaving like any mirror in the Muggle world, hanging silently and forbearing to comment on his scruffy appearance. To make matters worse, there was another witness to the mirror's silence, for Pauline had just entered the room.

Harry wasn't sure whether or not he'd imagined the look of curiosity that passed over her features, it was so fleeting. "Where is everyone?" he asked quickly, as much to fend off questions as anything.

"Good morning to you, too, although that's almost over now. To answer your question, everyone is outside. Casting wards." She didn't sound particularly pleased with him.

"Wards?" repeated Harry, alarmed. "What's happening?"

"Nothing earth-shattering. Just reporters."

Harry swore to himself. Of course it wouldn't take much brain-power to work out where he'd be staying. And now the Weasleys were going to be hounded. He should have known he couldn't stay here… He hadn't even been here twenty-four hours, and already they were after him, trying to learn all his secrets.

Pauline's manner softened slightly at Harry's reaction. "No worries. Fred and George are having quite a good time warding this place off. They've had some, well, interesting ideas about booby-trapping the place so no one we don't want here can get very close."

Harry forced himself to smile. That sort of task was right up the twins' alley. He moved towards the door.

"They ought to be finished soon," Pauline added.

The sound of the door closing was heard again, and Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione enter the kitchen.

"Harry, mate. You're up," said Ron. He sounded like he was in a much better mood than Harry was.

"Harry, did you sleep well?" asked Hermione. "We didn't want to wake you. You were sleeping so peacefully.

"Yeah, I'm still tried. I might head back up," he said. He really didn't want to be around anyone. Not even his best friends.

"No, luck there, mate," Ron joked. "Mum said you have to eat. She's been complaining all morning about how thin you are. And that beard… It's almost as bad as Bill's earring to hear her go on about it."

"I don't see why you won't let me…" Hermione began, and then she stopped as Harry and Ron both glared at her.

Harry noticed that Pauline was staring at them, and he didn't care for the expression on her face. She looked as if she sensed something was going on and was definitely trying to work out what it was. It wouldn't take her long to put two and two together. He was going to have to say something to the Weasleys tonight; there would be no avoiding it now.

"How are the wards coming, Ron?" Harry asked abruptly, hoping to turn Pauline's attention elsewhere.

"They're almost all up. Fred and George managed to cordon off the whole perimeter of the Burrow. Bill is going around checking for holes and weak areas. I told him, while he's at it, he might as well put up an insect repellent. Don't want to take any risks, do we?"

Pauline was following the conversation with obvious interest. "Pauline, can you help me up in Ginny's room?" Hermione asked her. Harry had the impression she was trying to get rid of Pauline, and he was grateful for her thoughtfulness. "It was a bit crowded last night, maybe we can expand it a bit."

Pauline's facial expression told them all that she knew what they were trying to do, but she put up no opposition. "Of course, Hermione, let's do it now."

Once confident no one else was within earshot, Harry turned to Ron. "What happened with the reporters? Did someone turn up here?"

"No, Hermione and I went into the village. She wanted to use the fellytone to call her mum and dad."

"Telephone, Ron," Harry corrected.

"I know, but that annoys Hermione so," Ron replied, his grin wide.

"How are the Grangers?"

"They're fine, settling in. The flat above their office is small. Only one bedroom, so Hermione will be staying here for a bit."

"I can see how upset you are about that," Harry teased.

"Yeah, well, it'll be a wrench for a while, but I'm sure I can handle it." Ron put his hand over his heart as he said this. "While we were in the village, we heard a racket. At first I thought it was Death Eaters, since they were wearing black cloaks. Turned out it was reporters. Hermione said they looked like a swarm of locusts. They started asking questions, and the flashes, from the cameras, were blinding us. And of course, who do you think was at the head of the lot?"

"Rita Skeeter," Harry said flatly.

"Right in one, mate. Hermione should make the front page of the _Prophet_ tomorrow," he said, the admiration evident in his tone. "Told Skeeter off something fierce."

"How'd you get away? Did they follow you here?"

"Nah, Mum made sure we had a Portkey, you know, just in case. We made it back here fine. Everyone got to work on the wards right away."

"Thanks. I'm sorry," he said miserably.

"For what?"

Harry couldn't answer, for at that moment Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen.

"Harry, dear. How are you feeling? Are you hungry? Sit down, and I'll fix you something." Her questions come so fast that Harry didn't have a chance to reply.

"Mrs Weasley, I'm…"

"Don't go there, mate. It's a losing battle."

"You're what, dear?"

"I'm still a little tried. I don't think I could eat," he said hoping she would understand.

"Nonsense, you're tired because you haven't been eating properly. You sit down and eat, then you can go back up to your room and take a nap." It was amazing how she could manage to sound affectionate and commanding at the same time.

Grudgingly, Harry did as he was told. He did feel somewhat better after eating, but he still went back up to Ron's room for a nap.

Harry feigned sleeping several times that day. He was not up to talking to anyone, and he found himself wishing for his four-poster bed at school, so he could close the hangings and shut out the world. He'd never have that luxury again. Hermione must have suspected he was faking, and she managed to have an entire conversation with him without him uttering one response.

As the afternoon wore into the evening, Harry heard the Weasleys in the garden, setting up the tables for supper. There would be at least twelve of them at dinner tonight, since Mrs Weasley had invited Percy and Penelope to join them. It was a means of celebrating the end of school for the younger members of the family, as well as the probable end of the war. He knew they would have to eat outside. He hoped the wards would be sufficient to keep the reporters away.

Harry's thoughts drifted back to the first time he had eaten in the garden during the summer before his fourth year. Bill and Charlie had been having a table fight, while pompous Percy had been writing his now infamous cauldron bottom report. That had been before things had become really bleak, before the Tri-Wizard tournament, before Voldemort's rebirth. It had been before all the Death Eater attacks, but mostly, it had been before Charlie's death. Harry wondered how Bill was faring with that. After all, he and Charlie were the closest in age; they had also fought together in the war.

Thoughts of Charlie inevitably led to thoughts of others who had lost their lives. He'd barely even spared a thought for Professor Dumbledore, who'd taken on Voldemort first. It might never be known with any certainty, but perhaps Dumbledore had done something to weaken the Dark Lord, to make it possible for someone else to defeat him utterly. And then there were the others. Students and teachers…

Harry needed to stop these memories. It would do him no good to dwell on things, which were beyond his power to change, and it was certainly not going to help him find a way to tell the Weasleys about his lack of magical powers. He knew he had to go down there soon. He couldn't hide in Ron's room for the rest of the summer. Eventually someone other than Ron, Hermione or Ginny was going to notice he was not using magic. He was sure Pauline suspected something now; she had to be a smart girl to be responsible for running Zonko's. From something she'd mentioned last night, he realised she'd been a Ravenclaw when she was at Hogwarts. He was going to have to tell them all himself. It would not be fair to them to let them find out any other way.

He was taken from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

"Harry?" a soft voice called. It was Ginny. Damn, he'd been managing to avoid her for the most part ever since he'd woken up in the hospital wing. What could she want with him after all? He was less than he'd been, and she deserved better. He didn't reply to her.

She came into the room in spite of his silence. "Harry, it's supper time. Mum wants you to come down now."

"I'll be down in a minute," he mumbled, not even bothering to turn and look at her.

"Harry, you can't shut yourself up here forever, you know."

"I KNOW!" He hadn't meant to shout at her--that had just slipped out--but perhaps it was better this way. He kept his eyes pinned to the floor. Anywhere but on her. He didn't want to see the hurt in her expression.

But then she replied, and her tone was anything but hurt. "Fine. Be that way! But if you don't come down to supper, I'll send Mum up here for you."

He turned then to see if she was really as angry as she sounded, but all he saw was her back as she left the room. He thought he heard her emit a half-strangled sound of rage in her throat, and then the sound of her stomping down the stairs echoed through the upper storeys of the house. He buried his face in his hands, whispering, "Crap!" 

Several minutes later, he found himself in the Weasleys' garden. It was a cool night, and a slight breeze was blowing. He hoped someone had thought to put Silencing Charms around the Burrow too. The thought of their voices carrying out into the surrounding trees gave Harry an uneasy feeling.

As he approached, he heard Mr. Weasley and Percy giving accounts of the latest Death Eater captures. Some of the surviving Death Eaters had unmasked themselves and turned themselves in once Voldemort had disappeared, but not all of them had. The most loyal of the lot were surely looking for ways of bringing their master back to them so they could continue their reign of terror. The Ministry was most anxious to bring the rest of them in to stand trial, as well as ensuring that Voldemort was well and truly gone for good.

There were still two empty places at the table, and those were down at the end beside Ron and Hermione. Harry took one of the seats, not paying much attention to who was missing. Then Ginny came out of the house bearing a platter of food, and he realised she would be occupying the remaining place at the table… next to him. He glanced up at her reluctantly and saw that her mouth as pressed into a line, as she assessed the situation. He knew she wouldn't say anything that would cause a scene, but he noticed that as she took her seat, she moved the chair away from his.

Mrs Weasley handed Harry a plate piled high with food, and the conversation turned to the rebuilding of Hogsmeade. It was hoped that the village could be rebuilt quickly using magic to restore as many buildings as possible. Many of the residents were combining their forces in the effort to revive the village, and even outsiders had offered their help. The twins were planning on Apparating to the site the following day to see what they could do to help.

"Least we could do," said Fred.

"Yeah," agreed George. "It's our fault the village is in such a state, after all."

"You were only doing what you had to, dears," remarked Mrs Weasley. "War requires sacrifices of us all, doesn't it?"

She made a sound as if she was biting back a sob, and Harry knew she was thinking of Charlie. He shifted uncomfortably as her words hit too close to home, although she had no way of knowing it. Sneaking a glance round the table, he found both Hermione and Ron staring back at him, their expressions inscrutable. He could tell they were waiting for him to inform the family of still another sacrifice this war had required. But he maintained his silence during the most of the meal.

"The rebuilding is going to be the easy part," Pauline pointed out. "The merchants all lost stock as well, and they're going to have to replace it. We've all lost revenue in the last year with the war and the increased security. I'm not sure all the businesses in Hogsmeade will be able to come back after this. And that will make it all the harder on the rest of us…"

As the conversation continued to revolve around the war and the uncertainty as to whether it was even over yet, Harry got the impression that the Weasleys were avoiding mentioning his role in the latest battle. No one had asked him anything about his duel with Voldemort since his arrival, although he was certain they all knew about it. He knew they were waiting to him to broach the subject on his own, and he realised he ought to be grateful for their discretion. But there was something irritating about their silence as well. Was he so fragile that they had to tiptoe around him? The elder Weasleys had no idea there was even a good reason they should, after all.

But no time seemed right for him to bring it up. Even though they were discussing the war, Harry got the impression the others were generally happy. Yes, Charlie was gone--Mrs Weasley cast occasional glances towards his place at the table--but Harry knew things could have been much worse for all of them, so many more could have been killed. And it looked very much as if it was all over now. In spite of all the losses, they did have a lot to be thankful for.

Suddenly Percy's voice addressed the teenagers from the opposite end of the table. "Have any of you given any thought to the future? I could put in a word at the Ministry…"

"They haven't got all their NEWT results, yet, Perce," said Fred. "How can you expect them to know whether they've done well enough for a Ministry position or not?" He sounded very much as if not having good enough NEWT results for a Ministry position was a definite advantage.

"No, of course they haven't, but they must have an idea how they've done. I know _I_ did, and it had nothing to do with any Divination rubbish."

Harry was surprised enough to comment. "You were the one who recommended I take Divination in the first place.

Percy shifted slightly in his seat. "I've had a change of heart on the subject."

"No offence, Perce," said Ron, "but I really don't see myself dedicating the rest of my life to cauldron bottoms." Harry felt a movement beside him as Ron winced. Hermione must have kicked him under the table.

Percy, meanwhile replied rather huffily. "I'll have you know that my cauldron report was an important advance towards an international standard. And you know we've had other issues to deal with since then."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest, will you?"

"Well, I don't see myself sitting behind a desk for the rest of my life." Ron paused and looked sidelong at his girlfriend. "Hermione might go for it, though."

"What do you see yourself doing then?"

"Thought I might give Auror training a go…" There was another movement, as Hermione had surely kicked him again, but for a moment Harry couldn't understand why this pronouncement might earn Ron retribution from his girlfriend.

"That's lovely, dear," said Mrs Weasley brightly. "You and Harry could try that together."

Harry saw Ron and Hermione exchange an extremely uncomfortable look. "I think I'd like some more chicken," said Hermione very quickly.

Mrs Weasley looked confused for a moment before replying, "Of course, dear."

Harry could do nothing to stop the rising irritation he felt against his best friends. He now understood why Hermione had tried to shut Ron up when he'd brought up Auror training. She'd been trying to spare Harry's feelings, as if he were fragile. As if they all needed to walk on eggshells around him.

"If you're going into Auror training," Percy was going on, "you're going to have to get your Apparition tests as soon as possible. I could help you there. I feel I passed my own test so quickly because I practised every day, you know. I used every possible opportunity to Apparate that I could."

"Yeah," said Fred. "Apparating down to breakfast every morning was a bit much, don't you think?"

"The time he Apparated into the loo while I was still in there was pushing it a bit," remarked George confidentially, getting a laugh out of Bill, Fred and his father. Mrs Weasley was busy trying to look stern, but not succeeding very well. Nobody at Harry's end of the table found the turn of the conversation very funny, however, and Harry realised that it was going to become difficult for them to conceal their increasing discomfort.

Once again, Mrs Weasley brought him from his thoughts. "Harry, dear, would you like some more?"

"No, thank you, Mrs Weasley, I think I'm full," he said warily.

"Just have another helping dear. You really need to get your strength back."

"Now Molly, let the boy be," Mr. Weasley interjected. "He's looking much better already."

"Sure he does," boasted Fred.

"Well, except for the straggly beard of his," joked George.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron, Hermione and Ginny exchange an uncomfortable look.

"It is a bit silly, dear," remarked Mrs Weasley. "You look much better without it…"

The tension coming from Harry's end of the table was becoming more and more noticeable. "What's wrong with the four of you?" Mrs Weasley asked suddenly.

"Nothing," Ron said too quickly. "Nothing at all."

"It's all right," Harry said. "I'll have to tell them at some point. It might as well be now."

"Tell us what, dear?" asked Mrs Weasley.

Harry felt the combined weight of their gazes upon him. He suddenly did not want to see them all look upon him with shock and pity as he told them what he'd done, but he had no choice now but to go through it. Under the table he felt Ginny reach for his hand and give it a comforting squeeze. She did not let go.

He hesitated a moment, stunned at her gesture after the way he'd treated her earlier. Then he took a deep breath. "Before I tell you anything, I need to be sure that there's no possible way we can be overheard."

Hermione took the hint immediately and cast a Silencing Charm over the general area. Even if Rita Skeeter or some other reporter had managed to penetrate the wards Harry was sure his story would not appear in tomorrow's _Daily Prophet_.

"What I tell you now must be kept a dead secret. I do not want this to be generally known…" He met each of their eyes in turn, getting silent assurance that none of them would breathe a word of this. "Once I tell you, I will only tell one other person, and that will be Sirius. After that, I do not wish to have to repeat this ever again. "And just as he'd told Remus, Ron and Ginny in the hospital wing--was that only a few days ago? It seemed like an eternity--he told the assembled Weasleys the entire story of how the means by which Voldemort might be defeated was discovered. Here he looked at Hermione and acknowledged what it must have cost her to keep that information quiet. Then he went on to tell how he'd gone into the final confrontation with the full knowledge of what he'd be giving up.

Mrs Weasley let out an exclamation when Harry told them the reason Ron had sent for Charlie's wand. One of the twins let out a low whistle. Bill said, as if to himself, "To think it was Charlie's wand that brought about Voldemort's fall."

"We can only hope," said Mr Weasley, pride filtering into his tone.

Utter silence fell over the table like a pall as Harry completed his tale, explaining that Lucius Malfoy had tried to kill him once he lay helpless on the ground, but the talisman had saved him. He did not add that he almost wished it hadn't worked. Mrs Weasley was crying silently, while Mr Weasley patted her shoulder. The others, as predicted, bore expressions of mixed shock and pity. Harry could tell they were all overcome with questions they did not dare voice. He could easily imagine Percy wondering what Harry was planning to do with the rest of his life now that he no longer possessed any magic. Harry looked down and saw that Ginny was still holding his hand. Her grip was almost painful, but Harry welcomed it.

Mrs Weasley finally broke the silence. "Harry," she began shakily, "you will always have a home here with us. I hope you know that."

"Yes, well, thank you. But it's not as if I can get a job and actually contribute anything."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," said Mr Weasley. "I'm certain the Ministry…"

"I don't want someone offering me a job because they've taken pity on me, all right?" Harry immediately began to blush in shame at his outburst, because he knew Mr Weasley meant well.

"I understand, Harry, but perhaps something can be worked out. No one would need to know about your situation," Mr Weasley added quickly before Harry could protest further.

"You should at least think about it, Harry, dear," said Mrs Weasley. "We don't want… Well, we don't want to lose track of you, do we?"

But Harry knew what she really meant. She meant that she didn't want to lose him at all. He knew from what she'd said at Charlie's memorial that she considered him as one of her own. He'd known it in his heart for even longer. He couldn't put a finger on when it had happened, but at some point over the years, she'd begun treating him like one of her own children.

He swallowed and nodded once. "Anyway," he said at last, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table once more, "I'm going to need to get a few Muggle things in the village tomorrow."

"Yes, of course," said Mrs Weasley, "but perhaps someone else can go in your place. If any of those reporters catch sight of you…"

Harry knew she was right. At the same time Mr Weasley perked up. "Perhaps you can use some of my collection. You're perfectly welcome, you know. You won't be needing any plugs or batteries, will you?"

Harry smiled in spite of himself. "Erm, no, actually. What I really need is a razor."

Both Mr and Mrs Weasley looked a bit happier.

The rest of the meal and the evening that followed were quite subdued after that. When it was time for Percy and Penelope to leave, Harry was quite surprised when Percy solemnly shook his hand. He was even more surprised when the twins followed suit, and they seemed perfectly serious about it. George clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. No one knew what to say, apparently, but Harry could read the gratitude in their eyes all the same.

The others were going inside. Ginny gave him a penetrating look in passing. He could tell she was not pleased with him for his earlier behaviour, and yet there was understanding in that look, as if she knew he was trying to shut her out and why. He felt the hairs on his arms stand on end, as he realised that she was not going to stand by and allow him to do what he wanted. She would fight him tooth and nail on this.

Last to approach him was Pauline. "I'm sorry if I seemed short with you this morning," she began. Then she hesitated before going on. "I only gave up my business, and that can be rebuilt…" She never completed the thought, but Harry guessed well enough what she'd left unsaid.

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A/N: Welcome to my angst-fest. I expect the beginning chapters of this will be quite difficult to read, as well as to write. This is going to be a very different story from its predecessor; it's going to have to be. The enemy in this story will be largely internal rather than an external incarnation of evil. I'm planning on using more that one point of view this time as well. This sequel would not be possible without my good friend Marian's support. She is the only person I know who can yell at me and move me to tears all in the same review. She is a wonderful person and a wonderful friend. Thanks, Marian, I love ya!


	2. Chapter 2

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The Long Road Home, Chapter Two

Ginny stared morosely into the skillet full of bacon as she mechanically turned it to keep it from burning. The previous two weeks had not been easy for anyone, and today did not promise to turn out any better. She glanced over at the kitchen table, where this morning's owl post lay, and sighed. With any luck, Harry would not come down for a while, and they would be spared his inevitable reaction until then…

In the two weeks since Harry had let the rest of the Weasleys in on his secret, things had only seemed to get worse. Ginny had sincerely hoped that telling everyone would help draw Harry out of his shell, but the opposite had occurred. He had withdrawn day by day, not just from her, but from the entire family. The only emotion anyone seemed to be able to provoke in him these days was anger, and no one seemed to be able to predict just what would set him off. As a result, the entire household had been tiptoeing around him, but that usually only made matters worse.

Ginny felt her eyes begin to sting, and she blinked hard, irritated with herself. Crying about the situation would do nothing to ease the pain it caused her. On one level, she thought she knew why Harry was pushing them all away. It was to make the parting easier on all of them. She was certain that, in spite of all the Weasleys' efforts, that Harry still felt he would have to leave them and make his way in the Muggle world somehow. But knowing that did not make it easier.

She couldn't stop herself from glancing over at the table again. Today's post wasn't going to disabuse Harry of any notions he might be entertaining about leaving the wizarding world.

"Ginny, you're letting the bacon burn!"

Her mother's voice shook her out of her thoughts, and she turned the sizzling strips just in time. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's all right, dear. We're all… preoccupied these days." Ginny's mother set the basket of eggs she'd just finished collecting on the counter, and began to break them into a bowl. "Has the post arrived?"

Ginny nodded towards the table. "Over there, but…"

The older woman looked up sharply. "What is it?"

"Go and see."

Her mother pursed her lips and went over to look at the two parchment envelopes, which were lying on the table. They were addressed in bright green ink, and one was noticeably thicker than the other. 

"Oh dear," her mother sighed, as she put the envelopes back down, and covered them up with the morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. "Let's hope he gets up late," she continued almost to herself, but Ginny knew what she meant. Harry was definitely not going to react well to this turn of events.

The sound of footsteps announced the imminent arrival of someone else in the kitchen, and both Ginny and her mother tensed up in spite of themselves. Ginny's father had already left for the Ministry, and the twins, Bill and Pauline had gone up to Hogsmeade earlier, so that didn't leave many possibilities open as to who could be coming down to breakfast. Both let out their breath when Ron appeared, followed closely by Hermione.

"Morning!" said Ron brightly, taking a seat at the table and picking up the morning's paper. " 'You-Know-Who Sighted in Siberia,' " he read aloud. "Not more of that rubbish!" This was only the latest of many supposed Voldemort sightings, all of which had proven false so far.

"Honestly," said Hermione, craning her neck to see the headline. "Why do they insist on printing rumours? They only incite people to hysteria for no reason. Why can't they deal in something positive, like the effort to rebuild Hogsmeade?"

"Oh, there's something about that, too," replied Ron, pointing. "There's a small mention here at the end of the article."

Hermione read the line and snorted impatiently. "They're not painting it in a very uplifting light are they? Implying it'll all be for nothing if Voldemort isn't really gone…" She trailed off, and Ginny wondered if it had occurred to anyone else what a terrible thing it would be if Harry's sacrifice turned out to be all for naught.

"What's this? Here, Ron, there's one for you, too!" Hermione had obviously spied the morning's post.

Ron looked up from the paper and took his envelope from Hermione. "Is that what I think it is?"

Hermione had already torn her envelope open in her excitement. "Final NEWT results!" she squealed. 

Ron rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to look at those? Come on, we all know what they must say. Highest NEWT results in over three centuries. Hell, I'll bet they're the highest in the history of the school."

"Don't swear, Ron," Hermione said automatically. "What do yours say?"

Ron seemed a lot more reluctant to look at his results. Ginny wondered if he was afraid they wouldn't be high enough to get him admitted to Auror training. Slowly, he opened his envelope, and they watched as his expression slowly brightened. "Wow," he said quietly, "did better than I thought. Look at my Potions mark…"

Ginny and her mother exchanged a look. Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to have noticed that there was no envelope addressed to Harry. Hermione and Ron traded parchments. "What did I tell you?" said Ron proudly as he read over Hermione's results. "These have to be the highest results ever." Then he looked at her envelope. "You've got something else in yours. Must be some sort of certificate of honour."

"Where?" Hermione had evidently not noticed the extra sheet of parchment in her envelope. She reached for it pulled out the second sheet.

"What's going on?" 

Ginny's heart sank as Harry came into the room. He was unshaven and still wearing his pyjamas. The beard he'd had two weeks ago was gone now. Her father had unearthed an old-fashioned safety razor from his collection of Muggle items, and Harry had been putting it to occasional use. Some days he couldn't be bothered to get dressed at all, and today looked as if it was going to be one of them.

Mrs Weasley stepped in before anyone could reply to Harry. "Have a seat, Harry, dear. Your breakfast is almost ready." Then she looked at Ron and Hermione. "Clear all that off the table so you can eat."

But it was too late. Harry had spied the seal on one of the envelopes. The atmosphere in the room thickened at an alarming rate. "Are these NEWT results?" he asked, picking up Ron's parchment. "Snape must be going soft in his old age."

Ron gave a very forced laugh. "Yeah. Maybe someone hit him with a spell, and it made him go off in the head."

"Or maybe it set him right after all these years." Everyone stared. For an instant the old Harry was back, but then he was gone as quickly as he had come. "We'll know for certain when we see my results. Where are they?"

Hermione made a show of looking for a third envelope. "They don't seem to be here. Maybe there was some sort of delay."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe." But he didn't sound very convinced. Then he turned his attention to the plate Ginny's mother had set in front of him. Everyone followed his lead and began eating, and Ginny hoped the situation had been defused.

"So," Harry asked Ron after a while, "are you still planning on going in for Auror training?"

"I, uh, haven't really decided yet."

"I think you ought to. Those results are good enough, aren't they?"

"I suppose so," said Ron in a non-committal tone.

"What about you, Hermione? I don't see you crowing over your results. They must be good."

Hermione didn't reply.

"What's the matter with all of you?" Harry asked sharply. "So I haven't had my results yet. It's not as if I'm going to need them. What does it matter if there's been a delay? What was I going to do with them anyway?" 

Ginny stared down at her plate, but she couldn't eat another bite. She had a sickening feeling this was about to turn ugly. Harry looked at them all in turn. "Life goes on. Your lives do at any rate. You don't have to stop discussing it for my benefit."

"Harry…" Hermione began, but she was interrupted by a popping noise in the fireplace.

"Molly, are you there?" Mr Weasley's voice called out.

"Yes, Arthur." She sounded grateful for the interruption. She rose from her chair and went over to the fireplace. Ginny looked up then and saw an envelope change hands. It was clearly addressed in the same green ink that appeared on Ron's and Hermione's letters. She couldn't hear her parents' exchange, as they were talking in hushed tones, but she could work out easily enough whom they were discussing.

Harry could, as well. He stood up so that her father could see her from the fireplace. "I'm here, you know," he said loudly. "You don't have to discuss me as if I wasn't."

Ginny saw her mother start slightly, no doubt at the apparent irritation in Harry's tone. "Of course, dear," she said, handing the envelope. "This is for you."

"Your NEWT results," supplied Ginny's father. "They, er, well, they got misdirected somehow."

"Of course they weren't misdirected," said Harry. "The school owl couldn't find me, could it?"

Ginny saw her father look behind him, as if he was afraid of the conversation being overheard. "Yes, something like that," he said quietly so that Ginny had to strain to hear him. "The owl would have returned to Hogwarts when it was unable to locate you."

"Wonderful!" Harry shouted. "Just perfect! So now they know up at Hogwarts that owls can't find me. How am I going to manage to keep anything a secret at this rate? Everyone'll come to the conclusion on their own…"

"It won't be a secret long if you don't keep your voice down," Hermione hissed. "If anyone's in Mr Weasley's office, they might overhear you!"

"Harry, I think I've got that angle covered," replied Ginny's father. "Hogwarts sent this directly to me. Here. They know up at the school you're staying at the Burrow, and I sent a reply thanking them. In it, I said any further correspondence would have to be sent through me, because we've placed Charms on you so you can't be traced. As a way of keeping reporters from bothering you, you see…"

Some of the fight went out of Harry at that; his stance became visibly less belligerent. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"In any case, I need to get back to work. I'll see you all tonight." And with a _pop_, Ginny's father's head disappeared.

Harry returned to his place at the table, shoulders slumped. He pushed his half-finished plate away and sat there, turning the envelope over and over in his hands. The room fell silent, as everyone else at the table waited for Harry to look at his results. But he didn't. He just sat and stared at nothing in particular, eyes apparently not focused on anything. And all the while he turned the envelope.

Finally, Hermione could stand it no longer. "Aren't you going to even look at your results?"

It was the wrong thing to say. "WHY?" Harry shouted, and Ginny jumped at the suddenness of it. "What's the point? I suppose you want to know, though, don't you? You made me take the bloody things, after all. Will it make you happy if I look?"

Hermione had gone white. "I'm sorry, Harry. Just forget I said anything…"

"STOP IT! All of you just stop it! Stop treating me like a baby! Stop trying to spare my feelings! Stop talking in whispers whenever I'm around! Stop treating me like I'm some sort of invalid! Just… Just stop!"

Ginny couldn't help the next thing that came out of her mouth. She'd been sitting quietly in her corner, taking it all in, but she couldn't stand it anymore. "Maybe if you want us to stop treating you like a baby, you should stop acting like one."

Harry stood then, the force of his movement causing his chair to topple sideways to the floor with a loud clatter. Then he was gone, the sound of his angry footsteps echoing through the Burrow as he climbed the stairs. The envelope with his NEWT results lay abandoned on the table.

Ron rounded on his sister. "What did you have to go and say that for?" he demanded.

"Don't you start on me, Ron," she replied hotly, but then suddenly she felt a sob rising in her throat, and she was powerless to stop it. 

She got up from her seat and ran for the door, ignoring her brother's shouts behind her. Choking on her tears, she hurried into the yard. She didn't think about where she was going, she simply found herself in the darkness of her father's shed. There was something cool and comforting about it. She buried her face in her hands and let the tears come then.

When a pair of comforting arms surrounded her and began rocking her, she didn't question it. She simply let herself fall into their maternal embrace. She recognised her mother's special brand of comfort before she even heard the familiar voice crooning, "There, there," to her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd let her mother hold her like this, but she had a sneaking suspicion she'd been twelve at the time.

Her tears spent at last, Ginny pulled back from her mother, but she hardly knew what to say. She was overcome with the desire to tell her mother everything, but she didn't know where to begin. At last she blurted, "Oh, Mum, why did I just say that to him?"

"Because it's the truth, dear. Only he isn't ready to hear it yet. You need to give him more time to adjust. This is such a major change, and he hasn't had time to get used…"

Ginny interrupted, her anger coming back. "He had plenty of time to get used to the idea beforehand. Didn't you hear his explanation? He knew about this for two months, and he knew full well what he was doing. Not that he saw fit to tell any of us about it…"

"Ginny, dear, maybe he didn't feel comfortable sharing this with you, if he couldn't even share it with Ron."

"How much more comfortable did he expect to get with me? Hermione knew, for God's sake. But she's not his girlfriend. I am!"

"Girlfriend?" Her mother sounded hurt now. "But you told me last January that there was nothing going on between you…"

"It's because I thought there wasn't at that point…" Ginny trailed off. "It's complicated. We'd had a row, and we were both under the impression the other didn't want to be together anymore. We patched that up afterwards. We promised…" She broke off again, unsure of how much she wanted her mother to know about her relationship with Harry.

"Promised…" her mother prompted sounding a bit apprehensive.

"We'd promised to tell each other if something was wrong. And he didn't do that. When he found out about the spell, he didn't tell me about it. I only found out at the same time as Ron and Hermione did. Once it was too late."

Her mother gave her a reassuring hug, and Ginny suddenly found herself telling her mother about her relationship with Harry from the beginning. She kept some of it to herself, of course. She didn't think her mother wanted to know that she'd sometimes become too caught up in kissing Harry to stop his hands from wandering. Nor did she think her mother wanted to know how her own hands had wandered on occasion. She didn't think her mother would appreciate knowing they'd already shared a bed, however innocently, and she knew her mother wouldn't like hearing how close they'd come to crossing the final line on her birthday.

When she'd finished, her mother drew in a long breath. "It must have hurt a great deal when he shut you out then."

"Yes, Mum, it did." And then she told her mother what happened the morning Harry had woken up in the hospital wing. That had been the beginning. That had been the foundation of the wall that was between them now, and every day seemed to add another brick to the structure. Ginny found herself wondering if one day it would be too high to overcome. The idea caused fresh tears to burn in her eyes, and she felt her mother gather her close once more.

Slowly she began to tell her mother about something that Harry had done to her last week, something she'd kept to herself, since there had been no witnesses. She'd come into the kitchen, and he'd been watching something happening outside, so that his back had been turned to her. He'd been avoiding being alone with her as much as possible, but this time he hadn't withdrawn when she came in. She'd gone over to the window, intrigued, because he seemed to be paying close attention to whatever was going on. He'd been holding a glass of pumpkin juice, and there had been a slight smile playing about his lips.

Looking out the window, she'd seen Ron being chased by a legion of garden gnomes. Some of the creatures had managed to get hold of his gangly arms, and had been hanging on for dear life, while others had been desperately trying to grab Ron round the ankles. The twins had been off to one side, holding their sides, as they laughed at the scene, and Ginny had been sure they'd somehow managed to charm the gnomes into pursuing Ron.

Harry had taken a sip of his juice at the moment when the gnomes had finally managed to pull Ron to the ground and swarm over him. Harry had let out a bark of laughter, the first genuine laughter Ginny had heard from him in weeks, and spit pumpkin juice down the front of his shirt. She'd recognised it as one of the shirts he'd purchased with her last summer in London.

She still wanted to kick herself for what she'd said to Harry then. She hadn't meant anything by it. It had just come out. "Poor Ickle Harry, perhaps we need to put a bib on you." As she'd said the words, she'd taken her wand out to charm away the orange stain.

Harry had rounded on her, his laughter extinguished immediately. "Don't you dare use magic on me!" he'd snarled at her. "Just because I'm not as good as you since I'm a Muggle now, doesn't mean you can follow me around all day cleaning up after me!" And he'd stormed out of the room.

"I'm sorry he's taking it out on you, dear," her mother said when Ginny had finished. "It isn't right, but you know what they say… You always hurt the one you love."

Ginny sniffed. "I don't know that he loves me. He's doing this to everyone, not just me."

"He's been tetchy with everyone, but he's being harder on you, isn't he? Just now, he walked out because of something you said…"

"Because I was stupid and didn't think before I said it."

"It was only the truth, and from the sound of things, you've been keeping a good bit of hurt to yourself, haven't you?"

"I suppose, but…"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes, Mum, I do."

"So it hurts all the more, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but…"

"He's pushing you away."

Ginny hesitated for a moment and then admitted to something. "I'm afraid, Mum. He's trying to make me hate him. And if he manages it, he'll just leave. We won't see him again."

Ginny heard he mother catch her breath. "He can't do that. We're the only family he has."

"He'd do it, Mum. He can't stand us feeling sorry for him."

"But he can't leave…"

"If he took it into his head to leave, there's nothing we could do to stop him. He'll leave, and he won't come back, and we won't even be able to send him an owl. He'll just disappear on us…" Tears were threatening again. "Mum, what can I do?"

"You have to talk to him, Ginny."

"But I can't. He keeps shutting me out."

"You have to be patient and keep after him. You need to show him that this is causing you pain, too. That this is hurting more than just him. You can make him understand that, even though you can't imagine what he's going through, that he's hurt you as well. And he needs to understand that we need him as much as he needs us."

"Bit of a tall order, isn't it?"

"I never said it would be easy, but if anyone can get through to him, I think you can."

Her mother was gathering her close for another hug, and Ginny let out a long, shaky sigh. "Thanks, Mum."

"I'm not going to have my little girl much longer…"

Ginny rolled her eyes, even though she knew her mother couldn't see it. "Mum…" she protested.

"You're all grown up, or nearly. Starting your last year of school… You will be careful, won't you?"

Ginny pulled back and started at her mother in the shed's half-light. "Careful?"

Her mother looked back rather sternly. "Yes, careful. You do know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

She certainly did now. "Harry and I haven't… we haven't…"

"You haven't?" replied her mother sceptically, and Ginny thought she'd raised an eyebrow.

A blush was creeping over Ginny's face, and she was glad that there wasn't very much light in the shed. "No! Nothing like that…"

"As I say, be careful. Remember who you are." Ginny wasn't certain what her mother meant by that, exactly. It might have been several things at once: that she was a Weasley, and that she needed to remain true to herself were only two possibilities.

"Mum, it's not very likely we'll be doing anything. We're not exactly on speaking terms at the moment…"

"And what's going to happen once you've patched things up between you?"

Ginny couldn't reply to that. She'd already experienced what that could be like, but she wasn't about to tell her mother about it. So she merely said, "Yes, Mum."

"I want you to know you can always come to me…"

"Yes, Mum," Ginny said a bit louder, becoming more and more uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

Her mother must have sensed Ginny's discomfort, for she relented. "Come on, let's go back inside."

Ginny followed her mother back into the kitchen, where they found Ron and Hermione had cleaned up the remains of breakfast. Ginny noticed her mother casting a worried eye towards the clock. "Oh dear, look at the time!" The single hand on the clock was leaning dangerously close to _You're late_. "I've got a hundred things to do today…"

"Go do them, Mrs Weasley," said Hermione. "We'll be all right here."

Ginny saw her mother glance in the direction of the staircase. "I don't know… I really need to go into Diagon Alley…"

"Everything will be fine," Hermione reassured her. "You go on. It'll do you good to get out of the house."

"I might not be back until supper time."

"We'll manage, Mum," said Ron, and Ginny thought he spoke rather quickly. Her mother didn't seem to notice Ron's eagerness to get her out of the house, however, which was probably most fortunate for him.

"All right, then. Let me just change out of these old robes. I won't be a moment."

Once her mother was out of earshot, both Ginny and Hermione turned to Ron. "What have you got up your sleeve?" Hermione asked him suspiciously.

Ron grinned, and his eyes sparkled. "I'll tell you once the coast is clear. Just be patient."

So they waited, trying their best to look busy in the now-spotless kitchen until Ginny's mother had left for Diagon Alley through a roar of emerald flames. Then Hermione looked at Ron expectantly, but Ron turned to address Ginny instead. "You don't mind if we leave you here with Harry, do you?"

"Ron," Hermione broke in, "do you really think that's a good idea?"

"I thought you wanted to ring your parents," Ron pointed out. "We'll have to go into the village for that."

"Why not?" said Ginny. "We'll be all right. What could happen?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione, "I did want to tell them about my NEWT results. That certainly isn't going to take all day."

The tips of Ron's ears began to go red. "I thought… Well, I thought that since Mum is gone, we could go have lunch in the village, and, you know, take our time coming home…"

Hermione still seemed hesitant. "Go on, the two of you," Ginny said. "I'll be perfectly fine." She didn't think it was necessary to point out that it would be as if she were home by herself. She didn't expect to see Harry for the rest of the day after the scene at breakfast. It was just as well. Ginny wanted some time alone to think about how she was going to approach him.

"If you're sure…" Hermione began.

"Of course, I am. Out! Go on… Clear off!"

"Erm," said Ron, as he and Hermione headed out the door, "don't expect us back too early." And then they were gone.

Ginny turned for the stairs, noticing as she did that Harry's letter containing his NEWT results was still lying forgotten and unopened on the kitchen table. She hesitated, wondering if she ought to take it up to him. She knew she'd probably provoke another angry response from him if she tried to make him look at his results, but at the moment she wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. She wished for some sudden inspiration of wisdom that would tell her the best course of action to take with Harry. She sighed when it didn't come. Talking with her mother had helped, but it hadn't given her any sort of magical solution. Something made her pick up the envelope, in spite of her indecision, and put it in her pocket.

The house was silent, as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She might well have been the only one at home, for all the difference Harry's presence seemed to make. She missed him. God help her, but she missed him. 

The door to her bedroom was ajar, and she gave it an unhappy shove. It swung open to reveal Harry's Firebolt lying on her bed. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Perhaps the emptiness of the house had been more than just an impression. Perhaps he really was gone. It was the only reason she could think of for him to leave his Firebolt for her. Even if he couldn't use it, he'd want to keep it for himself, wouldn't he?

But no, he couldn't be gone. They would have noticed if he'd left the house. Ron and Hermione had been in the kitchen and would have said something.

"Harry?" she called out. 

Her heart began to pound, as her voice echoed out into the corridor, unanswered. She followed it out onto the landing and looked up the staircase that led to Ron's room. Maybe he was napping. He'd been sleeping quite a lot these days… or pretending to, at any rate. He could be up there ignoring her.

But Ron's room was empty too, she found once she'd climbed to the top of the house. She pushed the door open wider and found Harry's things strewn about. His trunk looked as if it had been kicked over. She thought she ought to feel better to find that Harry had not packed up all his things, but somehow she was only filled with a greater sense of foreboding. Something was wrong, here. Very wrong.

A book lying face-down in the corner, its pages crumpled under the weight of its covers, as if it had been thrown there, caught her eye. She thought she'd seen this book before. It had seemed to make the rounds among the older boys last year at school. She'd had no idea it belonged to Harry, but she thought, it must, since all the things that had been tossed about the room were plainly his.

Picking it up, she read the title out loud to herself. "_Dr Zog's Practical Spells for Wizards._" Something made her open the front cover. "A friend in need is a friend indeed," was inscribed on the inside of the cover. Something about those words struck a chord deep within her. But how was she supposed to be Harry's friend if he wouldn't let her in? Her mum had counselled patience, but perhaps she just needed to keep chipping away… 

The first thing she needed to do was find him, though. She headed back down the stairs, not bothering to call out this time. If he was determined to ignore her, he wasn't going to answer her anyway. He might even try to hide if he knew she was looking for him.

She stopped at each storey as she descended through the Burrow, looking in all the bedrooms but finding each one of them empty. She didn't like the chill she was beginning to feel creep over her. It was as if she was in the presence of a ghost. 

She got as far as the first floor landing before she noticed any sign of life. There were only two rooms on this floor, her parents' bedroom and a small bathroom. The door to the bathroom was partly open, and her eye caught a shadow of movement on the other side.

"Harry?" she called. "Is that you?"

There was no reply, but then, Ginny thought, who else could it be? Since the door wasn't quite closed, she didn't feel any compunction about going and opening it further. Her breath caught in her throat at what she saw. Harry was there in the bathroom, standing at the sink. He didn't acknowledge her presence; he didn't even seem to be aware of it. He was staring down at his hand, as if in deep concentration.

Following the line of his gaze, Ginny was shocked at what he found so fascinating. In his right hand he held a naked razor blade. He had to have taken it out of the razor her father had lent him--Ginny could see the pieces of it lying on the edge of the sink. He held the blade poised in mid-air, as if he'd begun to raise it and then froze in place. Blood oozed from a small cut on his finger.

Ginny stood horrified for a moment. He couldn't be thinking what he seemed to be thinking, could he? Could he possibly want to escape them all to such an extent?

She took a step forward, and still he didn't move. Finally, she felt compelled to break the silence.

"Harry, what do you think you're doing with that?" 

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: A huge thank you once more goes to Marian, my official arm-twister. She helped me write this again, and if I'm getting chapters out fast, it's because she's standing over me cracking the whip. Thanks also to my other betas and to all of you who reviewed chapter one.


	3. Chapter 3

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Three

Harry stomped up the stairs to Ron's room swearing to himself. How could Ginny say he was behaving like a baby? How was he acting like a baby? By shutting her out? As much as he hated to do it, it was for her own good. And hadn't she done the same to him last January? She'd given him the silent treatment for a month. "If that isn't the pot calling the cauldron black, I don't know what is," he muttered under his breath. He ignored the twinge his conscience gave him at that thought, a twinge that wanted to remind him that his and Ginny's rift of last winter had been based on a misunderstanding, while he was fully conscious of what he was doing to her now.

He entered Ron's room and slammed the door, but the sound didn't make him feel any better. "Anyway, she has no idea what I'm going through," he said to no one in particular. The room was empty except for Hedwig, who had returned from her night's hunting while he was downstairs and currently had her head tucked under a wing. "None at all." He ignored his conscience again. This time it was insisting on reminding him that he'd chosen this path for himself.

He kicked at the chest of drawers in frustration but only succeeded in hurting his toe. His image in the mirror reflected his pained expression. It also served to remind him he hadn't bothered to get dressed today. Most days he just didn't feel like it.

"Aren't you going to make a comment?" he shouted at the mirror. "Say something, damn it! I know you can talk, I've heard you!"

The mirror maintained a stubborn silence, and Harry felt like kicking something again, but his sore toe made him think twice about it. "You're just a goddamned mirror, what do you know?" He rubbed ruefully at this toe. "Baby," he muttered again. "I'll show her I'm not a baby…" But how? What would be the best way to prove Ginny wrong? Then he had an idea. "I'll get her," he said to the mirror. "I'll get dressed, and then she won't be able to say anything. And you won't have a reason to say anything either!"

He moved to his trunk, where all his things were still stored. He'd never got round to unpacking it. He'd noticed Ron giving his trunk occasional looks over the past two weeks, but his friend had kept his comments to himself. Of course. The thought did nothing to improve Harry's mood.

But the first thing he laid his hand on wasn't a shirt or a pair of trousers; it was _Dr Zog's Practical Spells for Wizards_. Harry felt his heart give a strange sort of lurch, a feeling he hadn't had in a while. Was it hope? Once more he was reminded of the time last winter when he and Ginny hadn't been speaking to each other. The book had been trying to tell him something then, too. Perhaps it had some advice for him now.

His hands shaking slightly, he opened it to a random page. It had never made any difference in the past what page he opened this book to, he'd always found what he was looking for. Not this time. "Take two cups of dragon's blood and bring to a boil…" he read in disbelief. He slammed the book shut in disgust.

"I need advice, and you give me a recipe for oven cleaner! Thanks loads!" he grumbled.

But something made him try again. This book might have a twisted sense of humour, but it had never failed him in the past. It had always told him just what he needed to know. Not this time. No matter how hard he concentrated, whenever he opened the book it said the same thing. He finally gave up and heaved it into a corner, roaring, "Useless piece of crap!"

He sank down next to his trunk and buried his face in his hands for a moment, fighting back a wave of despair. He just didn't know where to turn anymore. He'd worked hard at closing off a lot of avenues these past weeks, and he didn't feel right about trying to reopen them now. He kicked at this trunk again. Useless. It was all useless… Why had Ron even bothered packing it up for him? He might as well get rid of it all…

He stood and began to pull the last vestiges of Hogwarts out of his trunk, tossing them randomly about the room. Black robes emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest… He wouldn't be needing those anymore. Spell books… Pointless. He came to his Firebolt and hesitated. He was probably more attached to his broomstick that any of his other possessions. He'd told Ron at the end of term that Ginny could have it. Well, she could. She could have all of it, if she wanted.

He laid the Firebolt on his bed, and turned back to his trunk. His cauldron was next. He'd hated Potions with a passion, and even if he hadn't, it wouldn't be a possible career choice for him now. In spite of the speech Professor Snape had given to the class at the beginning of Harry's first year, in which the potions master had openly shown disdain for wand-waving, a lot of the most advanced potions he'd studied this year required an incantation. He pulled the cauldron out of his trunk and gave it a shove.

It rolled across the floor, coming to a jarring halt when it hit the wall underneath the window sill on which Hedwig's cage sat. Hedwig gave a hoot of outrage, as she was so unceremoniously awakened.

"Quiet, you," Harry snarled at her. "You won't even be able to find me now, will you? You're just as useless as the rest of it!"

Hedwig puffed out her feathers and raised her beak into the air. Harry knew he'd insulted her, but he felt no remorse. Hedwig must have sensed his mood, for she suddenly flew out of her cage, but she didn't fly directly out the window. She flew once around the room, cuffing Harry hard on the head as she passed. Harry stood, gaping for a moment. He'd just been struck by the thought that if she could still understand him, then maybe she would prove to be the only owl who could still find him. And he'd just turned her away as well. But it was too late to do anything about that now. She was gone.

"You're going to need this!" he shouted out the window, and then he chucked Hedwig's cage after her. "Bloody stupid owl!" He turned and gave his trunk a hard kick, welcoming the pain it caused his toe, and managing to knock it over and scatter the remainder of its contents over the floor. He kicked them about for good measure before stopping to look about the room, an odd feeling of satisfaction at the mess he'd made rising in him.

Then he grabbed up some clothes at random, yanked the Firebolt from his bed, and stormed off to the bathroom downstairs, stopping only to toss the broomstick onto Ginny's bed in passing. In spite of his anger at everything else, he still felt like taking a shower and getting dressed. He had something to prove to Ginny at any rate.

He stood under the hot water for a long time, thinking and growing calmer. What was he going to do? He was beginning to have serious doubts about being able to remain here at the Burrow much longer. Every day, every hour, he saw something that reminded him he no longer possessed any magic. Even staying up in Ron's room most of the day didn't help matters. There he was constantly confronted with the silent mirror and the images of the Chudley Cannons reminding him of what he could no longer do. But if he left here, where would he go and how would he support himself? He had no idea. He thought of Sirius, but his godfather had other problems to deal with, and Harry didn't even know if Sirius had a permanent home.

Then there was Ginny. It was going to kill him to leave her, but at the moment he saw no other alternative. He knew his behaviour towards her was causing her a great deal of pain. He'd seen it fleet across her face every time he did something to alienate her, and he hated himself for it. But he couldn't seem to stop himself, and he didn't know why.

By the time he turned off the hot water and took a towel to dry himself off, the skin on his fingers was wrinkled. There was a thick cloud of steam in the air, and he opened the door a crack to allow it to escape. As he reached for his trousers, he caught sight of his reflection again. He'd washed his hair in the shower, but it was hanging limply about his neck, drops of water still clinging to the strands making it look too long and greasy, somehow. Just like… "Snape," he hissed.

His hair had always been unmanageable, and in the past that had never bothered him, but suddenly it did. He rummaged through drawer after drawer in the cabinets around the sink until he found what he was looking for, a pair of shears. Then draped his towel around his shoulders before he began hacking away at his hair until it looked less like his former teacher's hair. Wisps of black hair stuck to the towel as they fell. After a while it seemed like a good idea to stop snipping. He really didn't have any idea what he was doing, after all. His hair was shorter now, at any rate, and at least he didn't look like Snape anymore.

He also needed another shower. Bits of hair were sticking to the back of his neck, which was still damp from his first shower. They were going to become bothersome before too long. He collected as much of it as he could with the towel, before tossing it under the sink. Then he undressed once more and turned the shower back on. He got quite a shock when he stepped under the spray. The water was icy cold. He'd obviously stayed in too long the first time and used up all the hot water.

His second shower was considerably shorter than the first one. He reached for a clean towel to dry off once more and began to get dressed. As he pulled a T-shirt over his head, his upper arms scraped against the stubble on his cheeks. Shaving with a Muggle razor had made his beard grow in much heavier. If he was going to look presentable, he really ought to do that now.

He noticed in the process that the blade in his razor had become rather dull. Who knew how long Mr Weasley had had this lying around, after all? Once he'd finished, he was really going to have to change to a new blade. He managed to get the razor taken apart and the old blade removed with no problems, but the new blade proved to be quite a bit sharper.

He winced as a sudden, stinging pain sliced through his finger. Looking down, he saw a trickle of blood. He raised the hand holding the blade--the same hand with the cut finger--so he could get a closer look. There was something strangely fascinating about it. He thought that it really wouldn't take much. A slice across his wrist would do it, and then he wouldn't have to worry anymore about anything. Just some blood and pain to endure before it ended, but he was no stranger to those either.

But could he do it? Did he really want to? It was a rather stupid thing to do in the end…

Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, and then a voice came. "Harry, what do you think you're doing with that?"

Harry turned to see Ginny advancing on him. Her eyes were fixed on his right hand. "What does it look like I was doing?"

"That's what I want you to tell me, Harry, because I really don't like what I'm thinking right now."

Harry didn't know what made him say what he said next. Maybe he was just tired of her watching his every move. "I was testing the blade to see if it was sharp enough."

She took another step forward, her eyes blazing with fury, and he immediately regretted the words. They'd just come out… from somewhere. Like most of the things he'd said to her over the past two weeks. But then just as suddenly her expression became closed off, and she stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Is it sharp enough?"

Harry stared at her. He had no idea what he could possibly say to that. Part of him couldn't believe that she actually thought he was capable of going through with it.

"Go on," she continued, her voice full of challenge. "Go ahead. You know you want to do it. What's the matter? Scared?"

He still couldn't answer, but it didn't matter. She kept on going, he voice steadily rising, without pausing for him to reply. "What's there to be scared of? This ought to be easy enough. You faced Voldemort. You defeated him. This is nothing. This is the easy way out, you know! Do it, and see where it gets you!" Her voice was shaking with anger by now. "But let me tell you one thing. If you do this, there's _nothing_ to keep me from following you!"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock at the idea that she'd take such a drastic step. Then he shook himself. "Keep it down, will you?" Harry hissed. "Do you want everyone up here?"

"What's the matter? Ashamed of yourself?" Suddenly, she turned and shouted into the corridor. "Hey, everyone, come and see. Harry's going to kill himself!"

"Ginny!"

She looked at him triumphantly. "They've all gone out actually." Her words were borne out by the lack of the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. "There's no one home but you and me. You see? I'd have been the one to find you. Is that what you wanted?"

"No!" he shouted just as loudly as she had. "I _didn't_ want you to find me. I don't want you to talk to me. I don't even want you around me." There he was again, blurting things he didn't mean, as if there was some other person in his head controlling his tongue.

Ginny's face fell, and Harry felt sick to see the hurt in her expression. He hated himself more than ever now. "Well, if that's what you really want, Harry…"

She hadn't even finished her sentence when she turned to go. Harry reached out with his left hand and grabbed her arm before she could run off. "Wait, Ginny. Don't go. I'm sorry. I keep saying these horrible things, and I don't even mean them…"

She nodded once, and he dropped his hand from her arm. At the same time he laid the razor blade aside. "What did you do to your finger?"

"I cut it when I was changing the blade. The old one was dull."

"So you weren't…"

"No, I wasn't… Well, in all honestly the thought had crossed my mind, but I decided it was stupid on my own." He ran a hand through his now-shorter hair and swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "I'm sorry I let you think I was going to. I don't know what came over me. It was completely unforgivable."

As he watched for her reaction, she took a deep breath, as if she was coming to a decision. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you yet, Harry. It seems I have a lot to forgive you for lately, and I'm not sure when I'll be ready to do that. It's not just now, it's everything that's been happening for the past month, really…"

That scared him. He had to swallow again before he could reply. "What?" That came out more harshly than he'd intended, but it was either that, or he wouldn't have got the sound out at all. "What did I do a month ago?"

"It was more than a month ago, actually. I think it all started when you found that spell and decided not to tell me about it."

"I _couldn't_ tell you about it. You would have tried to stop me!"

"How do you know? You never gave me a chance to show how I would have taken the news! We had an agreement, Harry! You promised me you wouldn't keep things from me!"

Harry began to panic. He knew she had him. "What agreement?" he hedged.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "I can't believe you don't remember this. We were locked up in the storage room at the time. Ron and Hermione locked us in, remember?"

"Vaguely…"

"Honestly! You were the one who brought it up. We had that whole fight last winter because of a stupid misunderstanding, and _you_ asked me to promise you to tell you if something was bothering me. And you in turn promised me the same. Any of that ring a bell?"

It did. All too well. His insides squirmed with guilt, but something made him argue with her. "I had to keep this a secret. The fewer people who knew the better!"

"Hermione knew…"

"She found the spell. Of course she knew! I had to make her promise to keep this a secret. I would have used a Memory Charm on her otherwise…"

Ginny's expression told him she clearly didn't believe that. "It doesn't matter. What matters is you didn't trust me enough to tell me. And you presumed to know how I would react to the news. Next…" She obviously wasn't going to give him a chance to argue further. "Next, you tried to sneak off and face Voldemort without me."

"Ginny, we went through all that the night before."

"You weren't even going to tell me good-bye, Harry! Didn't I deserve even that much?"

"You would have tried to stop me…"

"_How do you know?_" she shouted. "You assume you know what I'm going to do, but you don't really, do you?"

"Hermione tried to stop us…"

"I AM NOT HERMIONE! I'm Ginny! Just because she reacted one way doesn't mean I would have done the same in her place! You didn't even give me a chance to show you that, did you? Harry, I've known. I've known ever since I met you that you were going to have to face Voldemort one day. I knew I was going to have to let you do it. You didn't even give me that chance."

Harry looked down at his feet. There was nothing he could possibly say to justify himself in the face of what she'd just said.

"You can't say anything, can you? You know you're wrong." It was as if she could read his mind. "The thing is, are you man enough to admit it?"

He knew she was right, but something--it may have been the part of his brain that had been controlling his actions and making him act like such an idiot over the previous weeks--prevented him from replying.

She stared at him for a while, her arms still crossed. When she seemed convinced he was not going to reply, she went on. She began listing all the things he'd done to shut her out ever since the day he'd woken up in the hospital wing. He couldn't believe she remembered every slight. If he didn't know better he'd have thought she had some sort of tape recorder in her head and she was rewinding the tape to remember all this in such detail. He concentrated on that rather than on what she was saying. It was much easier for him than to listen to her list everything he'd done to hurt her.

Then he realised she'd stopped. He looked up. She did not look pleased. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop talking about me in your head. I know you're doing it."

How the hell did she do that? he wondered. How could she have known?

"You're doing it again!"

"What am I supposed to do? I mean, how do you remember all that? All those details?"

"They aren't details, Harry. I remember what's important. Everything we've said to each other is important to me."

Harry looked away. He wanted to get out of here, but she was blocking his only means of escape. He couldn't remember ever feeling this terrible about the things he'd done. He wanted to tell her he hadn't meant them… that they'd just happened, but he didn't think she was going to buy that excuse in her current mood.

"Weren't the same things important to you, Harry?"

Just when he thought things couldn't possibly get any worse…

"Damn it, why don't you trust me?"

His head snapped up. "Trust you?!"

"Yes, Harry, trust me. You didn't trust me enough to tell me what was hurting you. You were going to try to keep all this from me. And you'd promised…"

So she was back on that again, was she? He knew he had to answer her soon. He could tell their future together was hanging by the thinnest of threads now, and it wasn't going to take much at all to snap it. But wasn't that what he'd wanted? To push her away? He didn't know anymore. At the moment he felt like he needed her more than ever. But it wasn't exactly the right time to ask anything of her. Not after all he'd done to her. By all rights she should hate him now…

She was looking through him again, knowing he was holding another internal dialogue with himself. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

He knew he had to tell her. "I'm wondering why you don't hate me." He felt stupid the moment the words were out.

"Because I love you, you stupid prat. Although at the moment, I'm not too sure why."

Harry couldn't say anything to this. He was still trying to get his mind around the concept. After all he'd done--and her list of grievances had been long and legitimate, even if he hadn't admitted it aloud--she still loved him.

Ginny was shaking her head slowly. "Harry, don't you see? I have loved you ever since I was ten. The nature of my feelings may have changed over the past seven years, but I can honestly say I've loved you all that time. And I've only had reason to hope you might feel the same way for the past year. Don't you think if I could have stopped in those first six years, I would have? Don't you see? I can't stop. I don't think I'll ever stop."

Harry stared up at the ceiling. He was going to lose it very soon if she didn't stop telling him this. But she wasn't finished. "I told you that time in the hospital wing… the day you told us about losing your powers… I told you I understood what you were doing. You're still doing it. You've been trying to push me away, and I understand why, even if I don't like it. You wanted to make me hate you so you wouldn't hurt me when you left. But that's not how it works. I meant what I said before. I _will_ follow you anywhere you decide to go."

She stopped there, and Harry knew what he had to say to her. He just wasn't sure he'd be able to. He had to swallow very hard to get any words to come out. "I was trying to spare you pain, and in the end all I did was cause you more…"

"Yes, Harry, you did."

"I'm… I'm sorry… I know that doesn't begin to cover it…" He couldn't go on. He was on the very brink now, and he made a valiant effort to hold himself back.

But her next words were his undoing. "I'm not going to forget what you've done, but I understand, and I forgive you."

He had to turn away. He couldn't continue to stand in the light of her love. He was unworthy. But he felt her hands on him. Softly they turned him back to her and cradled his face. "Don't be afraid, Harry," she said gently. "Don't ever be afraid to let go with me."

He found himself completely enveloped in a warm embrace, and the dam burst at last. As had happened the day he woke up in the hospital wing, he buried his face against her and allowed himself release. After a long time, he pulled back from her, spent. They'd both sunk to the floor together. Her eyes were red-rimmed as his surely must be.

"You're not alone, Harry," she said quietly. "You don't have to go through this alone. You can always come to me, and if you can't come to me, go to someone. Please. I think you should talk to Professor Lupin."

"How? He's gone to help Sirius."

"Send him an owl…"

"I, erm, sort of did something to make Hedwig mad at me, too."

"Send Pigwidgeon, then. Just write to him, please."

He knew she was right, and he nodded. "I don't deserve you, you know that?"

She smiled slightly at that. "I don't suppose you do, but there's not a whole lot we can do about that, is there?" She reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "Harry… What _have_ you done?"

Unconsciously he glanced towards the sink where he'd tossed the towel full of clippings. She followed his gaze. He tried to shrug it off. "Thought I needed a hair cut. It's not that bad, is it?"

His worst fears were confirmed when she didn't reply. She leaned closer and began inspecting a bit more carefully. "It's not a complete loss," she said after a while. "I think I might be able to salvage it. It's going to be a bit short, mind you."

"Since when do you know how to cut hair?"

"Since when do you?" she returned, and it dawned on him how pleasant it was to hold a nearly normal conversation with her. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it. It now struck him just how much he'd missed over the past weeks: closeness, kisses, touches… he wanted it back; he wanted _her _back. "I can hardly do a worse job than you have. Besides, Mum taught me how."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She used to do all the boys." Harry remembered Mrs Weasley needling Bill about his long hair, and realised she'd been perfectly serious about giving him a hair cut. "With so many of us, it was more practical that way. And, well, she showed me how. I used to practice on my dolls. Mum knew a charm that made their hair grow back, so I've had lots of practice. I've even done Ron's hair a time or two… when he'd let me, that is. Not since he started Hogwarts," she added, noting Harry's look of disbelief. She got to her feet and extended a hand to Harry. "Come on."

He let her pull him up. "Where are we going?"

She picked up the shears he'd left lying out and took a clean towel. "My room. We'll clean up in here later."

"Erm, Gin… I'm going to need your help, I think…"

"What? Cleaning up the mess you made in Ron's room? Yeah, I saw. But Mum's going to be out running errands all afternoon, and Ron and Hermione have gone into the village. No one will have to know about it."

"Thanks."

They climbed the stairs to Ginny's room together, while Harry thought about the irony of the situation. Here they were with the entire house to themselves for the better part of the day, Ginny had just invited him up to her room, and he wasn't sure if he even dared kiss her. It wasn't that he was afraid to; it was more that it didn't seem right. He'd treated her abominably. He didn't feel comfortable making the first move.

Once she had him seated in her room, the towel draped around his shoulders he felt even less comfortable, but for a different reason. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the sensation of her running her fingers through his hair as she lifted the locks and trimmed them off evenly. He enjoyed it rather more than he suspected he ought to. It was another reminder of how much he'd missed touching her and having her touch him. It didn't help matters when she finished and began brushing stray hairs from the back of his neck. She was doing it perfunctorily enough, but he couldn't help feeling a shiver pass through him at the contact.

At last she stepped back, and he stood up quickly, making a show of going to look in the mirror to hide the awkward feelings she was arousing in him. She'd been right… She did know what she was doing. His hair was much shorter than it had been, but it didn't look all that bad, really…

"Harry," her voice came from behind him. "Don't you want to take this back up to Ron's room with you?"

He turned to see her holding his Firebolt. "No, Ginny, I want you to have that."

"I can't take this from you."

"I can't use it. You might as well have it. Maybe you can make the Quidditch team this year."

"Harry, I…"

"Please, Ginny, keep it. I think flying is going to be what I miss most of all, but if I can't fly on it, I want you to be able to."

She relented at that. He thought she turned away rather quickly at his words and gave an audible sniff. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, and she came into his arms and let him hold her. As long as he could stay like this with her, he thought, he could convince himself that everything was going to be all right.

She pulled back from him, and the temptation to lean in and kiss her became more and more difficult to resist. "Maybe…" he began, trying to hold to his resolve, "maybe we ought to see about that mess."

"Wait, Harry." She was fumbling in her pocket. "I almost forgot. You left this lying on the kitchen table. Don't you even want to know how you did?"

She was holding out the envelope with his NEWT results. Harry still didn't know what possible difference this was going to make in his life, but he took the envelope from her in spite of this and broke the seal. He unfolded the parchment, and as he read it over, he could feel his jaw literally drop. He'd done far, far better than he'd ever expected. Certainly not as well as Hermione, but still…

"What is it?" Ginny asked him curiously.

He couldn't speak. He handed her the parchment so that she could see for herself. "Wow, Harry… These are… They're amazing."

"Yeah, aren't they? I still can't believe Snape…"

"You could get a Ministry position with these marks, Harry."

"Ginny, don't. Please don't ruin it."

"I'm serious, Harry. There are lots of positions that don't require any sort of magic really." Harry wanted to protest, but she held up a hand. "Now just hear me out. No, they're not the most exciting jobs in the world, but you'll be able to remain part of the magical world. That's what you want, isn't it?"

That was just Harry's problem. He didn't know what he wanted. He hadn't had a clear idea before he'd gone and faced Voldemort, and he certainly didn't have one now. He knew he wasn't really qualified to take on anything in the Muggle world, in any case; he'd never been happy there. And Ginny was part of the magical world. Perhaps he owed it to her to try. "I suppose…"

"You can give it a try, can't you?"

"I guess…"

"Harry you're shutting me out again…"

"I'm sorry. I just don't know… I'll think about it, all right?"

She hesitated, unsure for a moment, and then took a deep breath. Taking a step closer, she put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Harry I need you to know something. I love you. _You_. Not your magical ability, but you, Harry." Then she brought his face down so she could kiss him tenderly and far too briefly.

He reached up and touched his lips, surprised. He hadn't expected her to do that after all the anger she'd demonstrated to him today. He felt as if he was never going to understand her.

"Come on," she said taking his hand. "We've got a mess to clean up." And she led him out of the room and up the stairs.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Once again this chapter would not have been possible without Marian's support, and basically feeding me dialogue… Happy Birthday, dear! Thanks also to my betas… And thanks to all who have reviewed. I'm astounded at the response. I'm hoping to be able to lighten things up for a bit after this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Four

Ginny glanced up at Harry surreptitiously, wondering what he was scribbling on that piece of parchment. Or more to the point, what he wasn't scribbling. He was holding his quill poised over the sheet and staring at it, as if willing the words to come. She craned her neck, but couldn't make out what was written across the top of the sheet. There was only one line, and it was almost certainly a greeting.

She turned back to her History of Magic text with a small sigh. She wasn't having much more luck getting anything useful done than he was. Of course, in her case, the subject matter may have had something to do with it… That and the fact that she was stretched out on her side, one hand propping up her chin. She'd come out here after lunch and spread out a blanket to lie on. It wasn't the most conducive spot for doing summer homework, perhaps, but the day was too fine to sit and do this inside.

She'd been surprised when he'd come outside to join her, bringing his parchment and ink. He hadn't said a word as he'd sat down near her, his back against the bole of the tree, but he'd seemed less tense somehow. It was noticeable in the set of his shoulders. It had been this way ever since their talk the day before. It had done them both good to get things out in the open. Now if only he could open up to the others…

"What are you writing?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Nothing at the moment," he mumbled.

"I can see that. But what are you trying to write?"

"I'm trying to write to Remus Lupin, like you suggested. Only I've no idea what to say…"

Ginny's heart leapt within her. That was definitely a step in the right direction. She remembered his reaction to Professor Lupin's offer of help in the hospital wing, and the way Harry had insisted he didn't want to accept the fact that he'd given up his powers. If he was taking this step, it had to mean he was ready to accept it now. "Whatever you have to say to him, I'm sure he'll understand. I think of anyone we know, he's in the best position to give you a hand."

"Yeah, but it would be a lot easier to do this face to face."

Ginny wondered about the truth of that statement. He'd opened up to her yesterday, but only because she'd forced him to. When the rest of the family returned home, he hadn't been exactly talkative, although the nature of his silence had changed. It was more of an embarrassed silence now, rather than an angry one. Ginny supposed it had been enough that he'd told the others about his NEWT results over supper without any prompting. Her mother had been as pleased with his results as if it had been one of her own children, but then in a sense, Harry had been for a long time now.

"I'm glad you're writing to him, Harry," she responded. She wished she had a suggestion for what he could put in his letter, but the first thing that came to mind was all that had happened yesterday, and she didn't like to bring it up. She was still drained from that conversation, and she knew he must be doubly so.

"Actually, I _do_ know what I ought to be putting in this, it's just … well it isn't easy, is it? I'm not exactly happy about the way I've been acting lately…"

Her heart went out to him, and she wished she knew what to say. "I think you're just going to have to grit your teeth and do it."

He sighed heavily. "I know."

Ginny turned back to her homework, but her attention was divided now between listening to the scratching of Harry's quill and experiencing the warm summer breeze. After a few minutes, however, the scratching stopped and she heard the sound of a parchment being crumpled. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" he asked abruptly.

Ginny smiled to herself, knowing he was only asking as an excuse to keep from writing his letter. "Out in the orchard with Mum."

"What are they doing there?"

"Practising Apparating."

"They are? When did they start learning?"

"About a week ago, I think. Mum and Dad have been helping them whenever they have a chance."

Harry looked surprised for a moment, and then, as Ginny watched, he reddened slightly and looked down. "I wonder why they didn't say anything," he said almost to himself. 

"I expect neither one of them wanted their head bitten off."

He went even redder at that. "I guess I ought to apologise to them… to everyone, really, for the way I've been behaving." Ginny had to strain her ears to hear him.

"Well, it would be the grown-up thing to do."

He swallowed hard enough that she could see it, before taking out a fresh sheet of parchment. Given the choice between writing to Professor Lupin and apologising to his best friends, it seemed he suddenly found the letter a much easier task.

Ginny turned another page in her History of Magic text, quickly skimming over a few paragraphs before striking something that made her stop and reread more closely. She couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled to the surface.

Harry's quill stopped scratching. "What's so funny?" Then he reached over and tilted up the cover of her book so he could get a look at the title. "Now you've got to tell me… What could you possibly find funny in there."

"Gefinn."

"Sorry?"

"As well as you did on your NEWTs, and you don't know who Gefinn is?"

"Erm, no, can't say that I do. I don't think we had anything on him."

"Her, you mean. She's a goddess of Norse legend. I suppose it is a minor detail. She's only mentioned in passing… I'll try to remember not to go over this bit for my NEWTs next spring."

"Yeah, every little bit helps… Anyway what did she do that's so funny."

"Well, she seems to have been a goddess of maidens. Unmarried women were believed to go to her halls when they died. But there was this necklace she wanted, so she prostituted herself for it…"

"I suppose it is a bit ironic," said Harry, starting to grin a little.

"Yeah, the goddess of virgins, and she's a prostitute herself. Strange what some people will believe in."

She went back to her homework, but she could feel that he was still watching her. She wondered if he was thinking about what was going to happen in just over a month when she would return to school. It wasn't going to be easy for her to leave him behind, especially when he seemed so fragile. But maybe it would be good for him, in a sense. Difficult, but good all the same. She wasn't going to be there all the time to be strong for him and drive him out of his shell when he closed himself off. He was going to have to learn to do that on his own. And she was going to have to learn to let him go so that he could.

No. She wouldn't think about that now; she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. She might not have the old Harry back just yet, but he was in there, and she missed him. Sometimes she caught glimpses, and she would remain in his company hoping for as many as she could grasp. 

The summer breeze suddenly grew stronger, whipping her hair into her eyes. She pushed it out of her face, irritated, but it kept coming back. When she could stand it no more, she stood suddenly.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry looking up.

"To get something to tie my hair back with. I can't get anything done with it blowing into my eyes like this." He looked as if he was about to get up, as well. "Stay there. I won't be a minute."

"No, sit. I'll go get it for you."

"How will you know where to look?"

"I know where your room is… I imagine I'd just have to dig a bit."

"No, there's no way I'm letting you turn my room upside down when I can just do it myself," she replied lightly, smiling.

"Well, maybe you'd get some more done if I got out of your hair," he said getting to his feet. His tone was as light as hers had been, but she saw he was perfectly serious.

"Don't be silly, Harry, of course you're not bothering me." He still looked hesitant, so she reached out a hand and touched his arm. "Please, stay."

He stared down at her, and she met his gaze steadily. She thought he looked as if he might take a step nearer. If he took one, and she took one then they'd be close enough for him to lean down to her and…

__

Pop!

Suddenly Ginny's range of vision was obscured by the back of a blinding orange T-shirt. "Ron, gerroff!" she cried, giving him a shove, which only served to make him stagger into Harry. At the same time, Harry said, "Ron, you're my best friend, and I'm quite fond of you, but I really think snogging is pushing things a bit too far, don't you?"

"Sorry about that," Ron replied, stepping to one side. "Last time I let the twins give me Apparition pointers."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "_I _could have told you that much. Why would you believe anything they told you? They probably gave you pointers on the best way to splinch yourself. You've only had eighteen years' experience to go on. Honestly!" But her irritation was false, because she could see that Harry's eyes were sparking with good humour, and it sent a jolt of elation through her.

"Ron, what happened?" Ginny turned to see Hermione coming out of the house. "You were supposed to end up inside the house. You completely missed the mark and landed on the other side!"

Ron shrugged. "I was tired of practising. Come on, Hermione, what do we need to practise so much for?"

"You obviously need to work on it some more. You were off by at least fifty feet!"

"What do you need your Apparition test for anyway? It's not as if you're going to need it."

"Why wouldn't she need it?" asked Harry.

"Hermione had a job offer along with her NEWT results," explained Ron. "If she accepts it, she'll be working up at Hogwarts. And we all know what that means…"

"Oh, honestly, Ron!" 

Hermione tried to cut him off, but he went on as if she hadn't tried to interrupt. "You can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds! You'll have to travel by Floo," he teased.

"Well, if I'm on staff, I expect I'll be living in the castle," Hermione pointed out, which made Ron suddenly stop smiling.

But then he grinned evilly. "Do you think you'll be allowed conjugal visits? Maybe that's what made McGonagall so sour all the time…"

"Ronald Weasley!" cried an outraged voice. No one had noticed Ginny's mother come out and join the group, but she must have followed Hermione out of the house. Hermione blushed deeply, and Ron's ears went scarlet. "If you know what's good for you, you'll explain that comment to my satisfaction!"

"It's only a joke, Mum…" Ron began.

"Congratulations, Hermione," Harry said quickly, no doubt hoping to steer the conversation into safer waters. "What's the job offer?"

"Madam Pince apparently didn't recover from the injuries she sustained in the battle at Hogsmeade, and she's planning on retiring. She's decided to hand pick her successor, and she chose me."

Ginny wasn't sure what she thought of this news. She'd never imagined Hermione spending the rest of her life in Hogwarts library, no matter how much time she'd spent there during her years as a student there. Harry may have been thinking along the same lines, for he said, laughing, "You're not actually going to accept, are you?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked slightly uncomfortable. "I haven't quite made up my mind yet…" But Ginny had the impression she had, and she didn't want to admit it.

"Perhaps you should look and see what else is out there, dear," added Mrs Weasley. "I'm sure this is a nice offer, but a clever girl like you can do whatever you set your mind to. Arthur could look into openings at the Ministry."

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said, her tone rather dismissive. 

__

Yes, Ginny thought, _she's already decided, but why_?

Her mother looked as if she was ready to lay into Ron once more, and Ron must have sensed it as well. "You know, Hermione, you're absolutely right about me needing more practise at this. I won't be accepted into Auror training if I haven't got my license."

Before anyone could say another word, Ron's face took on a look of deep concentration, and he disappeared.

"That boy…" his mother said after him. "Now where's he got to?"

Hermione laughed. "No doubt, fifty feet away from wherever he meant to appear."

Ginny's mother sighed. "He's going to turn out like Charlie and have to take his test over."

Ginny wondered if anyone else had been struck by the way her mother had mentioned Charlie so casually. Why couldn't her mother see--why couldn't any of them see--that bringing up Charlie was like bringing up Harry's lack of powers. It could be mentioned without the world falling to pieces, without everyone bursting into tears. It was a topic that ought to be broached with sensitivity, of course, but not one to be avoided at all cost. Now that Harry seemed to be taking steps to accept his situation, perhaps they could all stop walking on eggshells around him. Perhaps they could all take another step towards some semblance of normalcy. 

Ginny's mother was now eyeing the rest of them closely, and Ginny wondered if her mum had sensed that she and Harry had begun to patch things up. She was relieved when her mother's scrutiny settled on Hermione. It looked very much as if Molly was going to ask Hermione to explain Ron's comment.

Hermione had to have sensed it, as well, for she took a step backwards. "I'd best see where Ron has got to. Wouldn't want him to splinch himself…" And then she, too, Disapparated.

"If either of them thinks they can hide from me, they'd better think again," Ginny's mother muttered, before stalking off towards the house, leaving Harry and Ginny alone once again.

Ginny turned to look at Harry saw his eyes were still shining with mischief. "Come on," he said. "Let's see if we can find them before your mum does."

Ginny smiled at him. "I suppose it is more fun than working on my homework, but how are we going to manage to find them? If they're clever about it, they'll keep moving…"

"Well, it'll be like going for a walk, won't it? Come on."

He took her hand, and Ginny decided it was really best not to protest. Her hand fit so naturally into his. Ginny had missed this so much. They took a long walk around the Weasley property, taking care to remain within the wards, in case any reporters might be lurking about, and it was late afternoon before they decided to go back to the house. They'd seen no sign of Ron or Hermione, and Ginny thought her mother was going to be hard-pressed to find them and tell them off.

But as they were passing the shed on the way back to the house, Harry stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" Ginny asked him.

"Shh… I heard something."

Ginny strained her ears, and she heard it, too. There were voices coming from inside the shed. And they were arguing. Harry leaned in close and spoke into her ear. "I think we've found them."

They exchanged a look and stepped closer so they could hear what Ron and Hermione were saying.

"I still can't believe you said that in front of your mother!" they heard Hermione admonishing. "Honestly, I don't know what got into you!"

"I didn't know she was there, Hermione," Ron replied. "I didn't hear her come up. You think I would have said something like that in front of Mum?"

"I don't know, Ron. You don't always think before you before you open your mouth, do you?"

"Keep your voice down, Hermione, do you want her to find us?"

Ginny had to bite down on her lip to keep from giggling, and Harry must have felt that she had the urge to laugh, because he nudged her. But that only made matters worse.

"As if she wouldn't find us out here in the shed. I'm surprised she hasn't found us already."

"We could move again."

"Where? Up to your room? That's the first place she'd look!"

"She wouldn't see us if we borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak. It's up there."

"How are you going to get past her to get it? I'm sure she's got the house staked out."

"I'll Apparate!"

"Oh, that's a good one, Ron. You'll Apparate fifty feet off the mark, come out in thin air, and fall."

"You have such confidence in me, don't you?" Ron sounded hurt now. "I'm getting better at it, you know. I managed to Apparate into the shed without missing, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you almost managed to splinch yourself. If you do that, your mum is going to find you, and then there will be no escaping her."

"No worries there. I won't splinch myself. The twins told me how to do that in detail. I just do the opposite of what they tell me."

This statement was met by silence from Hermione, and Ginny imagined she was rolling her eyes at Ron. She was shaking with suppressed laughter now, and although she knew she shouldn't be listening to this, it was too much fun. It was too much like old times.

"Anyway," Ron was going on, "we'd best move again. Let's just go up to my room and get the invisibility cloak…" He paused, and when he went on, his voice had gone serious. "D'you think Harry would mind if I borrowed it? You know, he seems a lot better today for some reason."

Ginny stopped laughing and turned to Harry. He was looking back at her soberly. She could tell what he was thinking… that this was his cue to go in there and apologise to them both for his behaviour over the past few weeks. She squeezed his hand and nodded once. 

Harry took a few steps back and approached the shed door making quite a lot of noise in the process. The voices inside fell silent, and Ginny was afraid for a moment that Ron and Hermione would think it was her mother that had found them and would Disapparate.

Harry must have been thinking along the same lines. "Don't worry, it's only me," he called. "No need to panic."

"Keep it down, Harry," Ron's voice hissed from inside. "We don't want Mum out here."

"Can I, um, come in then?"

"Yeah, as long as no one sees you."

"I've get Ginny with me."

"Just get in here, and be quick about it!" came Hermione's voice.

Ginny suspected Harry was enjoying this, in spite of the seriousness of what he was about to do. They entered the darkness of the shed. Ron and Hermione were nowhere in evidence. "Where are you two?" Ginny called.

"Over here," came Hermione's voice from behind the Muggle washing machine Ginny's dad had been fiddling with for what seemed like an eternity now. It apparently made for a convenient hiding spot.

Ron and Hermione made room for Harry and Ginny to sit on the floor with them. Ginny waited for Harry to say something, but he suddenly seemed tongue-tied. In the half-light of the shed, she could see he was looking down at his hands. Ron and Hermione seemed to sense he had something important to say to them, and they waited for him to begin.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you said about the invisibility cloak," he began slowly. "And I just wanted to let you know, you're free to borrow it any time you want. You don't have to ask. Either of you can have anything of mine you want. I hope you know that. Although you can't have my Firebolt. I gave it to Ginny."

"Harry…" Hermione began.

"No, don't interrupt me. I have to say this. There's a lot of things I'm not going to be needing anymore, and you can have anything you want out of it."

Hermione broke in on him again, sounding more alarmed this time. "Harry, we don't want your things… What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing bad. Don't worry. Ginny and I had that talk yesterday. I guess what I'm really trying to say is, I've been a complete prat for the past few weeks. Worse than that. Prat doesn't even begin to cover it. And I know there's nothing I can do to make up for it. But I am sorry for the way I've been acting, and I promise to try to do better. I don't know if I can, but I'll try. I just seem to say things I don't mean lately. I don't want to say them; I don't even know where it's coming from most of the time. It just pops out of my mouth before I can stop it…" Harry said all this while looking down at his hands.

Hermione gave an audible sniff. "It's all right, Harry, really. We understand this has to be very difficult for you. Don't we, Ron?"

Ginny saw her give Ron a nudge with an elbow. "Yeah, mate, it's all right."

"Well, I'm going to try. I'm going to write to Remus Lupin…"

"That's good, Harry," Hermione said.

"Just do me a favour, will you?" Harry went on. "It's okay to talk about magic in front of me. You don't have to pretend you're Muggles around me. I mean, doesn't that defeat the whole purpose? One of the reasons we wanted to get rid of Voldemort was to stop the terror on Muggle-borns, wasn't it? If he'd had his way he'd have terrorised them all into not using their magic, wouldn't he?"

"He would have done a lot worse than that, mate," Ron said. "No telling where he would have stopped."

"Ron," Ginny broke in, not wanting this conversation to become side-tracked, "I think we all know that."

"Right. Anyway forget about you being a prat. I'd have gone mad if I were you. We weren't mad at you, we were worried."

Hermione leaned over and squeezed Harry's hand. "No one blames you for the way you acted."

Harry opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else, they heard a noise out in the yard. "Arthur?" Ginny's mother was calling, and from the sound of things she was heading in the direction of the shed. "Is that you already? I didn't know you were home yet…" 

Ron and Hermione shot to their feet, exchanging a panicked look. "Go!" Ginny hissed to them, getting up.

"But you and Har-" Ron began. 

"Just get out of here," Harry urged. "Don't worry about us."

They needed no further encouragement. In the next instant they'd gone, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the shed. Ginny knew her mother was going to jump to conclusions if she came into the shed no matter what she saw, so it probably wouldn't matter if she witnessed just a bit more. She knew it hadn't been easy for Harry to swallow his pride and apologise to Ron and Hermione, and she wanted him to know that she recognised that.

"Harry," she said, putting her arms around his waist, "that was well done. I know it wasn't easy for you." 

She thought he let out a breath of surprise as she hugged him close. But he didn't have the chance to reply to her or even settle into her embrace. Her mother had opened the door to the shed and cleared her throat. Ginny released Harry and turned to face her mother, who was standing with her arms crossed and looking at the two of them knowingly.

"What's going on in here?"

"We thought we heard Ron and Hermione," Ginny replied quickly.

"Really?"

"We did hear them," added Harry, "only they Disapparated again."

Ginny's mother looked at them sceptically. "Well, come on out of there. Ginny, I need you to help me with dinner," she added in a tone that Ginny knew meant business.

She followed her mother into the house, thinking it wasn't fair that Harry had got off the hook. "It looks as if the two of you have made it up," her mother said as soon as they were in the kitchen.

"Well, yes, we did have a long talk yesterday."

"While you were cutting his hair?"

"He'd tried to do it himself, Mum. It was really awful. Someone had to do something about it."

"You did a good job on it… Ginny, just remember what I said about being careful."

Ginny was extremely grateful her mother let the subject drop after that, and together they went about the business of getting supper ready. She couldn't help notice, however, that her mother muttered occasional comments under her breath, and all of them were along the lines of wishing she had an extra pair of eyes.

The family was all seated around the tables outside much later, having finished another delicious meal. The twins, Bill and Pauline were still staying at the Burrow, although according to the twins, they might be able to relocate to the rebuilt Zonko's fairly soon. As Ginny's mother rose and waved her wand to clear the dirty dishes from the table in anticipation of dessert, her father cleared his throat.

"I've been asking round at the Ministry today, Harry. There will be positions opening up in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Ginny caught her breath, as she watched Harry shift uncomfortably in his seat. The rest of the table seemed to tense, as if everyone were expecting an angry outburst. "Thank you, Mr Weasley," he said. "No offence, but Magical Law Enforcement? Would I be qualified?"

"They're going to need help in the office itself, Harry. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement isn't just Hit Wizards and Aurors. It's also the Council of Magical Law, and they're going to have their hands full very soon, if I don't miss my guess. There are going to be trials, lots of them. And trials mean paperwork, and paperwork needs looking after. There will be openings for desk jobs, which don't really require the use of magic, just as there will be need for more Aurors."

"That would be brilliant, Harry," Ron chimed in. He and Hermione had turned up just as supper was being put on the table. "We'd be working in the same department!"

"Not if you don't fill out the application," Hermione pointed out. His father had brought the application for Auror training home from the Ministry and given it to Ron just before supper. "You ought to work on that tonight if you want to be accepted into training next month."

Ron suddenly looked less happy about things. "I've had a look at that application, and it's about as exciting as a History of Magic essay," he complained.

"How's Apparition coming along?" asked Fred.

"Manage to splinch yourself yet?" added George.

"No, thanks to you lot, I've managed to avoid it. I just do the opposite of whatever you say," Ron shot back.

"He's getting better at it," said Hermione proudly. "Last few times, you were only about five feet off the mark."

"Just remember if you splinch yourself not to leave anything important behind," said Fred with a wicked grin.

"Yeah, Hermione might not appreciate that so much," put in George.

"And I suppose the two of you know from personal experience?" asked Ron, not missing a beat.

"That will do," said their mother with a glare at all of them, but Ginny noticed she looked longest at Ron. She hadn't forgotten his comment this afternoon, and Ginny was sure their father would be recruited to have a talk with Ron before the evening was through.

Ron had obviously picked up on his mother's mood, as well, for he disappeared rather quickly as soon as the meal was over, but he didn't go far. When the rest of the family came in, he was seated in a corner, a quill in his hand and several sheets of parchment on the table in front of him. Ginny was sure he was working on his application to Auror training, and this was borne out, as she approached him and heard him muttering under his breath.

"Question seven: Have you ever been in contact with illegal animals? Answer: no I have not, not even dragons." His quill was scratching away at the same time as his words.

"Erm, Ron," Harry began, "aren't they going to know you're lying on that one? They'll be sure to check your Hogwarts record and know you had Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid for three years."

Ron seemed to come out of a trance. "Oh, that's right, isn't it? I'll have to change that." He picked up his wand to erase what he'd just written. "Er, what can I say so this doesn't look so bad?"

"Well, I wouldn't mention the dragons for one thing," advised Hermione. "That's just asking for trouble."

"Why would you even mention them?" asked Ginny. "It's not as if any of us were ever in contact with a dragon. Besides Harry, that is, and those were special circumstances."

She felt Harry nudge her, and then he was whispering in her ear, "I'll tell you later. It's a bit of a long story."

"Ron, just tell them the truth," Hermione said. "Just say you have been in contact with certain creatures that are classified by the Ministry as being dangerous, but it was in an academic situation."

"Yeah, that sounds good…" Ron scribbled down her answer. "Question eight: Have you ever brewed illegal potions… Erm, Hermione…"

"Well there's no need to tell them about _that_."

"Right. Answer: no."

Meanwhile Hermione had moved so she could see over Ron's shoulder. "Honestly, Ron!"

"What?"

"You've lied on every single one of these!" She snatched up the parchment and began to read aloud. "Have you ever broken school rules? No?" Ron looked sheepish. "Have you ever cheated on homework or exams? _No_?!"

"Now hold on there, I only ever cheated on Divination homework, and that's not a real subject!"

"True, they'll hardly care about that. That can stay. But have you ever used illegal items? And you said no?"

"When have I used an illegal item?"

"Do the words 'flying car' mean anything to you?"

"Oh. But I didn't bewitch it to fly…"

"No, but you _used_ it. And it was in the newspaper, and it's certain to be on your school record. Ron, you're going to have to tell them about this…"

Ron sighed heavily. "All right. But this is a nightmare, it really is. You haven't seen the worst of it. I have to write an essay on what I think my strengths and weaknesses as an Auror would be. _And_ I need to get a recommendation from one of my teachers."

"That's easy enough," said Harry. "I'm sure Professor Flitwick or Professor McGonagall would put in a good word for you."

"It's not that simple, Harry," Ron groaned. "They've chosen the teacher for me. They say it's done at random to ensure an impartial review."

"And who have they chosen for you?" asked Ginny, although from Ron's demeanour it looked as if the choice was not a favourable one.

"Snape! And just look at question four!"

"Have you ever cursed an adult in authority?" Hermione read.

"Face it," said Harry. "You're dead."

"I know," Ron said despondently, "but, if I don't give it a shot, I'll just never know, will I? Will you help me with this, Hermione?"

"Yes, of course."

They worked on Ron's application for the rest of the evening, while Ginny did some more of her summer assignments. Harry got out his letter to Professor Lupin once more, but partway through the evening, his put the parchment away and disappeared. Half an hour later, Hermione got up and said she was going up to bed. As she passed by Ginny, Hermione motioned with her head that she wanted Ginny to follow her.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"I'll tell you upstairs."

Ginny rose from her seat and moved in the direction of the stairs. Voices coming from the kitchen make her pause, and she put her hand out to hold Hermione back.

"Oh, Harry, of course it's all right," Ginny's mother was saying, and she sounded rather teary. "We all understand…"

Harry replied something, but Ginny couldn't hear what he said. her neck, she peered around the doorway into the kitchen, and saw her mother was hugging Harry tightly. She smiled to herself. He must have apologised to her parents for his behaviour now, too. 

Up in Ginny's room, Hermione closed the door and cast a silencing charm. Ginny looked at her friend questioningly.

"I don't want this conversation to be overheard," Hermione told her. "Pauline may come up, and I want this to remain between the two of us."

"What's this about, Hermione?"

"It's about that job offer I had. I'm going to take it."

"So I gathered from the way you sounded when you told Mum about it. But I can't help but wonder why. It's not the most exciting job in the world, is it? And as former Head Girl it's not as if you won't get any other offers."

"You're right, Ginny. Normally I wouldn't consider taking this." She paused and smiled. "I know if Ron were here, he'd be teasing me about how much time I liked to spend in that library, and here's my chance to spend the rest of my career there… But anyway. I thought that if I took this job, I might be able to find out something useful. I'd have access, you see, access to all the books."

Ginny had no idea where Hermione was going with this. "What do you think you're going to learn while you're there? And why is it such a secret?"

"I want to try and find some way to restore Harry's powers to him, and if I take the position at the library, I'll have all that information at my disposal. If it's possible, it'll be in the library. Somewhere. I'll just have to find where it is. But I want this to be kept a dead secret, because I don't want him to know we're doing this."

"We?"

"I thought you could help me. What if there's something in some of those ancient texts? You're much better at the runes than I am."

"Of course I'll help you, Hermione. If he could get his powers back… Oh, Hermione, you don't know what he said to me yesterday. He told me he was going to miss flying more than anything else. He gave me his broomstick. Insisted I take it. If he could only fly again, he'd be so happy…"

"If it's possible, we'll find the way, Ginny. But he can't find out about this, until we're certain it's going to work. I don't think he could stand it if he got his hopes up and it didn't work. Are we agreed on that?"

"Yes."

"Ginny… I think I owe you for keeping that spell a secret. Harry insisted on it, or I would have told you. I don't think it would have made any difference in the end, though. None of us would have been able to stop him once he knew what he needed to do. You didn't see what he was like. It was frightening."

"It's all right, Hermione. You're right, no one would have been able to stop him. I don't know if I could have stopped myself from trying… I never will…"

"In any case, if we can find a way to restore his powers, it won't matter anymore. This will all be like a bad dream and we can forget about it."

Ginny couldn't agree more with that assessment. She had no idea if it was even possible to restore Harry's powers to him. She only knew that if there was even a remote chance at it she was ready to do whatever was necessary to achieve that goal. As she lay in bed later that night, listening to the others' steady breathing and waiting for sleep to overtake her, she repeated that thought to herself, until it became a vow.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Thanks once again to Marian for all her help with this chapter, as well as to my other betas. You're the best. Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

For those of you who are interested in Norse mythology, Gefinn is an alternate spelling of Gefion or Gefjon. One of my betas, who knows more about the subject than I do told me she'd never heard of Gefinn, so I thought I'd clarify that.

The next chapter may take a bit longer than usual to post. I've get a very hectic week coming up, and I don't know how much time I'll have to write. I'll do my best not to make you wait too long though.


	5. Chapter 5

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Five

As Harry woke up on the morning of July thirty-first, he felt a sense of disquiet overtake him. The fact that it was his birthday only served to increase his worries, as he thought of how different this birthday already was from the seven that had preceded it. He'd grown used to staying awake until after midnight to await the flurry of owls that always arrived with cards and presents. Last night, he had not bothered to sit up late. He'd known it was an exercise in futility. But that was not the main reason behind his feelings now. He'd been working hard at trying to accept the fact that there would be no owls for him today. After all, he was at the Weasleys' so it wasn't as if his birthday was going to be completely ignored. No, the real reason for his worry now was the fact that Hedwig had still not put in an appearance.

She'd flown off in what he'd thought was a snit a little less than a week ago now, but he'd thought that would blow over in a few days. It hadn't apparently. He went over to the window and looked in vain for a flash of white feathers tipped with black, but the sky outside was empty. He was beginning to get the feeling she'd never come back.

It was just something else he was going to have to learn to accept, he told himself, but he still felt as if he'd lost a good friend. He remembered feeling something similar when he was twelve and Dobby had managed to stop the letters Ron and Hermione had sent to him. He'd thought he'd lost their friendship then, as well, but this cut much deeper. He'd owned Hedwig for seven full years now, after all. She'd been his faithful servant up--and more than that, his friend--until he'd let his temper get the better of him last week…

He made himself take out some clothes and head down to the bathroom. It was his birthday, and he resolved not to let this bother him. But he'd no sooner sat down at the breakfast table to a chorus of birthday greetings, when something else happened to make everything just a bit worse. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were already seated round the kitchen table when he came into the kitchen. As Harry reached for the butter to spread on his toast, several owls flew into the room. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts when the morning post arrived. One of the owls was simply delivering the morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_, but the others crowded around Hermione, Ron and Ginny, vying for their attention. 

Both the girls seemed to have received two letters this morning--Harry could see what looked suspiciously like a Hogwarts seal on one of the envelopes that was addressed to Ginny. But then Hermione had one too. 

It was Ron, however, who opened his letter first. He let out a whoop of joy. "I can't believe it!" he shouted. "They've actually accepted me into Auror training!"

"That's wonderful, dear," said Mrs Weasley, as she came over with a skillet full of scrambled eggs, and began heaping them onto Harry's plate. She put an arm around Harry and gave him a squeeze. "Happy birthday, dear."

As Harry watched, Ron read through his letter, the tips of his ears growing gradually redder. "I don't believe it!" he said again, beginning to laugh.

"What don't you believe?" asked Hermione.

"Listen to this: 'Dear Mr Weasley,' " he read. " 'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Auror training. You are to report to training headquarters…' Hang on, the good bit is further on. 'Under normal circumstances, we would have rejected your application, given the high number of illegal incidences you admitted to being involved with. However, due to the mitigating circumstances, which explained these aberrant occurrences, we have decided to overlook them…' What do they mean by that?"

Hermione laughed. "I think it means you gave them a good excuse for each case you had to explain to them."

"Oh, right. Well, thanks for helping me with that, then."

"Snape must have put in a good word for you, as well," said Harry. "He really is going soft in his old age."

"I've only got one problem here," said Ron. "They want me to have my Apparition test before I report for training."

Hermione patted his arm. "You've been doing loads better, Ron. You only miss the mark every fourth or fifth try now, and then it's only by a few feet. You'll get it, if you keep practising."

"Easy for you to say, Miss I-Can-Apparate-and-I-Don't-Even-Need-to-Know-How."

"Even if I am living up at Hogwarts, I'm sure I'll be able to find a reason to Apparate every now and then. It's a nice enough walk down to Hogsmeade, and from there, I can Apparate wherever I want to. Here to the Burrow, for example." 

Harry was certain Hermione was avoiding anything that might sound like a conjugal visit to Mrs Weasley. She was keeping a much closer watch on all four of them since last week, it seemed to him. She had developed a knack for turning up unexpectedly if he and Ginny managed to find themselves alone for any length of time, at any rate. Ron seemed to have got the point, as well, for he didn't say another word about it.

"Speaking of Hogwarts," Hermione went on, "I've got a letter here from Madam Pince. She wants me to start learning how to take care of the library on Monday. That makes two of us starting work then," she added with a smile in Harry's direction.

Mr Weasley had told Harry last night that he'd been offered a position with the Department of Magical Law and could start on Monday if he decided to accept the offer. Harry had done so, since he doubted he'd be able to find anything better suited for him and still remain in the wizarding world.

"What else have you got there?" Ron had spied another letter addressed to Hermione. Harry noticed the envelope bore some strange, spiky handwriting that seemed familiar to him. Then he noticed that Ginny also had a letter addressed to her in the same handwriting. She was opening it slowly, her face reddening slightly as she did so.

Ron, meanwhile, had taken Hermione's letter out of her hand. "Ron!" she scolded. "That's my letter! I haven't even had a chance to read it yet!"

"What's Krum doing writing to you?" Ron asked, holding the letter out of her reach. Now Harry knew why the writing looked familiar. They'd seen it on a regular basis in Defence Against the Dark Arts class last year… for one term, at any rate. He wondered why Krum would be writing to both Ginny and Hermione.

Hermione managed to snatch her letter back from Ron. "I don't know why he's writing to me, and I won't know unless you let me read it." She took out the parchment and began reading it.

Ron then noticed Ginny's letter. "You've got one, too?" he asked, looking over at her. "What's the matter, one woman isn't enough for Quidditch boy? He has to chase two of them?"

"Honestly, Ron," snapped Hermione, "you know perfectly well what a decent person he is. This is just a friendly letter. Besides, he isn't going to be playing Quidditch this year."

"Is he mental? The league's sure to start up again."

"Perhaps, but he's taken a teaching position at Durmstrang."

"I thought you just got through telling me he was a decent person."

"He is. There's a new headmaster this year, someone who isn't going to teach the Dark Arts like Karkaroff did."

"What happened to Karkaroff?"

"It looks as if he was killed in some action on the continent. It happened a week or so before the Hogsmeade battle. Anyway, the new headmaster is opening the school up, according to Viktor. They're going to allow Muggle-born students to attend, and they're not going to hide the school anymore." 

Ginny was reading her own letter and nodding as Hermione told the others what was in her letter. Ginny's version apparently agreed with Hermione's. Harry wondered why Viktor had written to Ginny, but then he remembered an overheard apology while he was lying in the hospital wing last month. It looked as if Viktor was making an overture at friendship, the sort he had with Hermione. They might exchange letters every now and then. It wasn't the sort of thing he felt he needed to worry about. After all, he didn't get the feeling Ron was really jealous of Viktor Krum; Ron only liked to pretend he was to get under Hermione's skin.

Harry continued to watch Ginny out of the corner of his eye, while he ate. She put down Viktor's letter and picked up what was evidently her Hogwarts letter. She opened it, and Harry saw her eyes run down the page. He leaned over to her. "You know, you can have any of my books… if you want them, that is."

"Well, it's just the two on my list."

Harry remembered his list from the previous year. All he'd needed where was the book on taking the NEWTs and the highest level of the _Standard Book of Spells_.

"Look at this," Ginny said to him suddenly. "I've got dress robes on my list."

"Looks like we got off lucky, eh, Harry?" Ron commented. "If they're having some sort of fancy dress occasion this year, we finished school just in time. We won't have to go to it."

"Well, you know, Ron," said Hermione, "you might have had more fun at the Yule Ball if you hadn't spent the entire time stewing over Viktor Krum."

"I did not…"

"Yes, you did. And if you didn't enjoy yourself, it's your own fault."

Ron opened his mouth and closed it again. Hermione had got him there, Harry felt. He'd not had a very good time at the Yule Ball, either. He remembered Ginny going with Neville that year and having her feet trodden on. He supposed she'd had a miserable time as well, and he wondered if things would have been any different if she'd gone with him, as Ron had purposed. In retrospect, he didn't really think so. He'd not been in a position to notice Ginny then. But now things were much different.

"Do you think there's going to be a Yule Ball this year?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged. "If they were going to hold another Tri-Wizard Tournament, you'd have thought we'd have heard something by now."

"Nah," said Ron, "they kept that a secret. We didn't hear about it until the Sorting Feast, remember?"  


"I know, but Percy kept hinting, and that's his department. Mum, too. We'd have heard something."

"I can't imagine they'd be holding it again so soon," Hermione added. "Not after what happened at the last one. And we've been at war. Everyone has. Not just here in England but on the continent, too. I don't imagine the various Ministries have been thinking about organising anything like another tournament."

Harry knew Hermione was probably right. He was about to finish his last forkful of eggs, when a movement outside caught his eye. He thought he'd seen a flash of white. He got up quickly and went over to the window, but by the time he got there, he saw nothing.

"What's the matter?" Ginny's voice carried over from the table.

"Thought I saw Hedwig, but I guess I was mistaken," he replied, still looking out the window.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "She'll come back." He put his hand over Ginny's, and hoped she was right.

After breakfast Ron and Hermione disappeared fairly quickly, saying that Ron needed more Apparition practice if he was going to pass his test in time to enter Auror training. Harry hung around outside not sure what to do with himself. He'd finished his letter to Remus Lupin and sent it off with Pigwidgeon two days ago. There had been no reply so far, but Harry wasn't really expecting one quite so soon. Ginny had kicked him out of the kitchen, and he suspected she was making him a birthday cake.

At one point, curiosity got the better of him, and he tried to stick his nose into the kitchen, but Ginny headed him off rather quickly. "If you can't mind your own business, I'll have to find you something to do!"

"It's my birthday! I shouldn't have to do chores!"

"So I've heard. It doesn't mean you can't make yourself useful. Go and de-gnome the garden!"

He knew better than to try to hang around the kitchen after that. He was damned if he was going to actually de-gnome the garden on his birthday. Just before lunchtime, Ginny came out into the yard with a large basket slung over her arm. "What's all this?" he asked as she came up to him.

"A picnic lunch. Come on." She took his hand, and they started walking towards the orchard.

"How did you manage to convince your mother to let us go off on our own like this?" he asked once they were out of earshot of the house.

"Well, it is your birthday, after all… and I promised we'd stay in sight of the house. It's better than nothing."

"We were better off back at school," he grumbled. But then he remembered she'd be going back to school next month, and he wouldn't. There really would be nothing left then. It was best if they could make good use of the little time they had, even if it did mean Mrs Weasley might be watching from a distance.

They went a little way into the apple trees, and Ginny spread out a blanket in a spot where they'd be visible from the house. "It's still not fair," Harry pointed out. "Ron and Hermione don't have to stay in a spot where your mother can keep an eye on them."

"I think they really are working on Apparition. That's why she isn't worried. Ron's really afraid he won't pass his test." She was taking a plate full of sandwiches out of her basket and setting it beside a jug of pumpkin juice.

"Ginny…" Harry began, but then he wasn't sure how he ought to continue.

"What?"

"Well, I was just thinking. If you have those dress robes on your school list, and well, if it's because there's going to be dancing, you're going to need a partner, aren't you?"

She stopped laying things out and pretended to smooth out the blanket for a moment. "I suppose so. If there's a dance."

"Ginny, I'm not much of a dancer, but will you let me know, and I'll make arrangements to come up to school?"

"Of course, Harry. Besides, you can't be any worse than Neville."

"I wouldn't want to bet on it." He reached for a sandwich, feeling hungry now that he'd got that out of the way. "If Hermione's there on staff, do you think Ron will come up and escort her?"

"You mean if there's a dance. Well, she's clever about it, she'll tell him it's a conjugal visit."

They laughed together and began to eat. After the sandwiches, Ginny pulled a plate of tea cakes out of her basket. "Sorry, I didn't put any candles on them. Mum's going to make you a proper cake tonight in any case."

"It doesn't matter." And he meant it. The time they were spending together was the important thing now. It was really all he cared about. So he was surprised when she took a wrapped package out of the basket and gave it to him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"A birthday present, silly. It isn't anything much."

He began to undo the wrapping, wondering when she'd had time to do any shopping. She hadn't gone out anywhere since they'd come home from school.

"A dragon?" he laughed when he'd got the box open and pulled out the plush toy inside. It was obviously not new, carrying that rough-about-the-edges look that marked most of the Weasleys' things.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything new. It used to be mine. Charlie gave it to me when I was little. That's why it's a dragon. His name is Puff."

"Puff?"

"Yeah, Puff. Is there something wrong with that?"

For some reason Harry thought of Ron's reaction to the name Ginny had chosen for his owl. "No, nothing at all," he said too quickly.

"Well, the twins always called him Poof." 

Harry saw the corners of her mouth twitch as she tried to suppress a smile. He couldn't stop himself from laughing then.

"And, well…" She began again, but then she looked down and began to blush.

"What?"

"It's silly. You see, I'm going back to school next month, and I wanted you to have something of mine. I don't know why I settled on that. I used to sleep with it when I was younger, and… I guess I'm just being stupid…"

"No, you're not." He thought he knew what she was getting at. She was trying to give him a part of herself to keep with him while they were separated, and she'd chosen something innocuous enough that nobody else was likely to remark on it. But he could also tell it meant a lot to her. From the amount of wear on the toy, it looked as if she'd loved it very much.

"I wish it could be more."

"Ginny, you don't have to give me anything."

"It's not what I'd like to be able to give you."

"You've already saved my life once. What more could you possibly give me?"

"But I saved your life at a point when you'd rather I hadn't, didn't I?"

Harry was becoming less and less comfortable with the conversation. How did she know him so well? For years, she'd been Ron's little sister who had a crush on him. Even if she'd told him on other occasions that she loved him, there was still something about her feelings he had yet to fully comprehend.

"It's all right to admit it," she said when he didn't reply.

"I… I just don't know anymore. Maybe it would have been easier if I didn't come out of that confrontation alive… It would have been easier for _me_," he hastened to add. He remembered the talk they'd had last week as well as she did. It had given him a lot to think about. "It wouldn't have been easier for you."

"Not for me, and not for a lot of people. Ron, Hermione, Mum… the whole family. We're all glad you're still around."

"Even if I'm… less now?"

"But you're not. That's the whole point."

"Gin…" He wanted her to stop. There was something about the depth of her feelings that he didn't feel he deserved.

"You don't understand, do you? I may have started out having a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived, but that ended a long time ago. I got to know you, Harry. You." She put her hand over his heart. "And I fell in love with you. Not your fame, not your powers, not your talent for playing Quidditch, but you." 

She'd said something similar to this a week ago, the day she'd found him in the bathroom, but he still didn't quite believe it. He couldn't bring himself to, and she could sense it. 

"I know you don't believe me, but I hope you will someday."

Ginny suddenly moved so that she was kneeling over him, almost facing him. She brought up a hand and lovingly brushed his hair back out of his face. The sun glinted off the gold bracelet he'd given her for Christmas. "You gave me seventeen roses for my birthday. I still have them, they're pressed in my rune dictionary. I haven't got any roses for you," she whispered.

He caught his breath as she leaned closer and took his face between her hands. Then she kissed his forehead. "That's one."

Her next kiss fell on his chin. "Two." One cheek, and then the other. "Three, four…" The next fell at the corners of his mouth. "Five, six…" 

He somehow managed to kneel facing her, and his hands grasped her waist, while her lips touched the end of his nose. "Seven."

He held his breath in anticipation of the next one, knowing where it would fall. His hands flexed on her waist. Warm lips pressed against his all too briefly. "Eight."

He didn't know how much more he'd be able to stand before he gave in to the desire to kiss her in a way her mother would definitely not approve of. "Nine."

He tried to prolong the next one, but she ducked away too quickly. He'd have to be faster the next time. "Ten."

He still hadn't been fast enough, distracted as he was by the thought that he couldn't remember the last time he'd kissed her properly. "Eleven."

She lingered a bit longer on the next, but she still didn't open for him and allow him to taste. "Twelve."

He tightened his arms around her this time, determined to keep her there. He had her this time. It had been a long time since he'd felt this alive. Maybe thirteen wasn't such an unlucky number after all…

A sudden blow to the back of his head caused him to topple forwards, and his front teeth struck hers.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

He looked around to see what had so rudely interrupted them, half expecting to see Mrs Weasley glowering over him. But what he saw instead was Hedwig. She had landed on the blanket nearby and was glaring at him, but there was also a hint of satisfaction in her expression, which give Harry the sudden impression she'd been waiting for just the right moment to make her presence known.

There was a letter tied to her leg, and Harry hesitated before reaching out to untie it. From the way Hedwig was looking at him, he wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't try to bite him. Hedwig finally held out her leg rather stiffly so Harry could untie the letter.

What he saw on the envelope caused his hand to start shaking and his heart to pound. For it was addressed simply to Harry Potter, with no specific location mentioned. "Hedwig, you can find me," he blurted, surprised.

If anything, Hedwig looked even more offended. She flew off to perch on the limb of a nearby tree. Harry stared after her for a moment, before turning back to his letter. He tore open the envelope, and immediately recognised Sirius' writing.

__

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday, assuming this reaches you in time. I would have liked to be there for your eighteenth birthday, but circumstances are preventing it. We've turned up some new evidence, which may lead us to Wormtail, but we must act upon it immediately.

Remus has joined me in my search. He's told me that your confrontation with Voldemort had some consequences that you'll have to tell me about in person. I wish I could have been there when you woke up in the hospital wing to hear all about it along with the others, but I unfortunately chose to follow Wormtail's trail. My life seems to lead me continually along a path that prevents me from being there when you need me most. I'm sorry, if I've failed you in my role as your godfather. Perhaps someday I'll be able to do something to make up for the trust that your parents had in me. I hope it has not been completely misplaced.

I need to tell you that your owl turned up a week ago, but she was bearing no letter. If it somehow got lost (which I doubt) or intercepted along the way, you'll have to let me know. This seems very odd to me. I would have written to you sooner, but it took me this long to convince Hedwig to return to you. 

Cross your fingers for me that my luck will change soon, and I'll catch Wormtail at last. Until that time, I don't know when I'll be able to come see you.

Take care,

Sirius

Harry read the letter again in disbelief over his godfather's feelings. He didn't blame Sirius in the least for going after Wormtail. It was the only way Sirius could ever hope to clear his name. He handed the letter to Ginny so that she could see it. He saw no reason why she shouldn't know about this. She was as much a part of his life now as Ron, Hermione, or Sirius.

He looked up into the trees and considered Hedwig. So she'd gone to Sirius in a fit of pique. He couldn't blame her. He'd behaved as badly with her as he had with everyone else. He'd apologised to the others; he only had this final apology to make.

"I'm sorry, all right?" he called up into the tree. "I was acting like a stupid git. You've proven to me now you're clever enough to find me no matter what. You didn't have to, you know. I realised that almost as soon as you flew off the other day."

Hedwig ruffled her feathers--she looked as if she was puffing herself up--but she continued to glower down at him, and he knew she hadn't forgiven him. Harry remembered back to his fourth year when she'd been put out with him. It had been over a lot less then, and yet it had still taken her a while to come around. It was going to take a lot longer this time.

"You can find me, anyway, and that's something," he said as much to himself as to his owl. And it was something to be happy about. Somehow he didn't feel quite as cut off from the wizarding world as he had.

Suddenly Hedwig spread her wings and took off, soaring upwards towards Ron's window. Harry swallowed hard.

"Harry," Ginny began. She was following Hedwig's flight, as well. "What's Hedwig going to do when she sees the dent in her cage? You know, the one that got there when you threw it out the window."

Harry didn't have time to reply. Hedwig came back out the window and flew straight towards him. He didn't have time to duck. She cuffed him hard on the head again with her wing before flying back towards the Burrow once more, but going in through the open kitchen window this time.

Harry rubbed the back of his head. "I guess that answers your question."

"Looks like she's going to take up residence with Errol."

"At this rate it's going to take a year before she's over being mad at me."

Ginny put an arm around him and laid her head on his shoulder. "I forgave you. And if I did, surely Hedwig will."

"I didn't throw anything of yours out the window."

"You'd better not, either." She gave him an extra squeeze. "We'd best go in."

Harry helped her pick up the remains of their picnic and followed her back to the house. Just outside the kitchen door, Ginny pulled him aside. She reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. "Thirteen," she said, as she pulled back. Her eyes were dark with promise, but then she moved towards the door.

"Wait," he replied, taking her arm before she could go through the door. "Isn't that fourteen?"

"I had to do that one over. We were interrupted."

"What about the rest then?"

"I'll just have to surprise you, won't I?" 

And she slipped into the house leaving him to wonder just how long he was going to have to wait for the rest. Her mother certainly wasn't making things easy for them, but he hoped Ginny could find a way around that particular obstacle, and the sooner the better. The month of August was looking as if it was going to pass very quickly indeed.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: OK, so that got a bit sappy, but poor Harry needs it. He may have had a good day or two, but he isn't out of the woods yet. Thanks to everyone for their continued support. The dragon is in there for Cait, and hey I think I just gave you another popsicle.


	6. Chapter 6

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Six

"…as much as possible. When Apparating over distances of greater than…"

"Hermione, will you stop?"

Hermione looked up at the sound of Ron's voice. She'd been idly stirring her porridge, but Harry could tell she wasn't even aware of what she'd been doing. "Stop what?"

"Muttering Apparition tips to yourself. You'll be fine."

"But I've never tried to Apparate over any sort of distance like this before."

"You passed your test, didn't you? The Ministry must think you're capable if they gave you a license."

Hermione and Ron had taken their Apparition test on the previous Saturday. To no one's surprise, Hermione had passed her test with flying colours. To everyone's surprise Ron had also managed to pass his test, except…

"They saw fit to give you a license, too, Ron," Hermione pointed out, "but it didn't stop you from winding up at the top of Stoatshead Hill when you tried to Apparate home."

"It was the shock," Ron admitted. "I honestly didn't think I'd pass. You, on the other hand, have nothing to worry about."

But Hermione, while she stopped muttering to herself, continued to play with her breakfast without eating it. She was still obviously nervous about something, but whether it was over Apparating up to Hogsmeade or the fact that she was starting a new job today, wasn't entirely clear to Harry. 

He looked down at his own barely-touched bowl. At least she wasn't alone. Ron wouldn't begin Auror training until next week, but Harry would be beginning at the Ministry today, and he wasn't completely at ease with the idea. He'd spent the last month sheltered here at the Burrow, but now he'd be going out among strangers, strangers who would just assume he was magical, and who might expect him to do something special. He'd have to find a way to play along with him if he was going to keep his secret.

Meanwhile, the twins were talking about the rebuilding effort in Hogsmeade. Zonko's was now almost completely finished, and the twins were hoping to move back there in the next few days. But not everything was going as smoothly for some of the other merchants.

"We've heard rumours that Gladrags may not reopen their Hogsmeade store. It's never been as profitable as their other branches, and they think it may not be worth reopening."

"That would be a pity," commented Mrs Weasley. "The Hogsmeade branch was their original shop."

"Yes, but the fact of the matter is that store never sold as much as the others," said George. "London and Paris have a much larger population to cater to. It's obviously easier to turn a profit when you have more customers right at your doorstep."

"The problem is that it affects all of us," added Fred. "If one of the shops doesn't come back, it gives people less reason to shop in Hogsmeade in the first place. They'll be more likely to decide to go to Diagon Alley instead. It hurts everyone's businesses."

"With any luck, there will be Hogsmeade weekends this year at Hogwarts," Hermione said. "Perhaps Gladrags will decide it's worth reopening after all."

"Maybe," said George, "but Hogwarts students don't make up a big portion of their customers. They all wear uniforms, after all. It's not like the lot of them descend on Gladrags like they do on Zonko's."

"It's too bad…" began Mrs Weasley. "Ginny had dress robes on her school list this year. There could have been a way to encourage students to buy their dress robes in Hogsmeade, perhaps. Those who needed new ones, in any case."

Harry had to wonder if Ginny's parents would be able to afford a new set of dress robes for Ginny. The ones she's worn in her third year weren't likely to fit her anymore.

Mr Weasley got up from his place at the table. "We'd best be off, Harry. Don't want to be late the first day."

Harry stood to a chorus of general good wishes.

"Oh dear," said Hermione, "I'd better get going as well." She stood, looking slightly pale but determined.

"You'll be _fine_, Hermione," Ron told her again.

She gave him a nervous smile and drew her wand in preparation. "Have a good day," she said to everyone before she disappeared with a _pop_.

"Come on, Harry," said Mr Weasley as he headed towards the fireplace, "it's our turn."

But Harry suddenly remembered something. "My wand! It's up in Ron's room. I won't be a minute!"

He climbed the stairs two at a time, all the while berating himself for forgetting. He hadn't been keeping his wand with him at the Burrow--there hadn't been any reason to when everyone here knew he had no powers--but at the Ministry, he'd be expected to carry a wand. Even if it only was for show, no one but him knew that. He'd have to be more careful if he didn't want his secret to get out.

He retrieved his wand and pounded back down the stairs towards the kitchen, almost colliding with Ginny on the landing outside her room. She had evidently just climbed out of bed. Her hair was still tousled, and her dressing gown had been tied on rather haphazardly.

"Harry!" she cried, starting and putting a hand over her heart. "You gave me a fright."

"Sorry, I'm going to be late."

"Oh, and I overslept. I meant to get up and see you off."

"You're just in time, actually."

"Well, in that case…" She reached up and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Good luck for today."

"Was that number fifteen?"

"No, that was for today."

Ginny had tried to finish the birthday kisses over the weekend but had only managed to add one more to the tally so far. It wasn't for lack of trying; it was just difficult in a large family like the Weasleys' to get any sort of privacy, especially when Mrs Weasley insisted on keeping a close watch. Harry found himself hoping for number fifteen on the spot, but Mr Weasley was calling up the stairs for him.

"I have to go."

"I'll go down with you," Ginny said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Are you very nervous?"

"A little…"

"You'll be fine."

Harry wished he shared her confidence. "That's what Ron keeps saying to Hermione."

When they had reached the kitchen, Ginny gave his hand another squeeze before leaning close and kissing his cheek. George let out a wolf whistle. "Shut it," Ginny said to her brother. "See you tonight, Harry."

Mr Weasley had the flower pot where the Weasleys kept their supply of Floo powder in his hand. "Ready, Harry?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be."

Harry took a pinch of Floo powder out of the proffered flower pot and tossed it into the flames. They turned emerald green and roared higher. Harry stepped into them and said half-heartedly, "The Ministry of Magic."

Nothing happened.

"Try again," advised Mr Weasley. "You don't sound confident enough."

"That's because I'm not," thought Harry, but he kept that idea to himself. "The Ministry of Magic!" he tried again with more feeling, but still he remained rooted to the spot. In spite of the feeling of panic that was beginning to take over, Harry was still grateful about one thing. "At least I'm not burning," he grumbled.

"All right, Harry," began Mr Weasley. "Come out for a moment. We're going to have to do this another way."

Harry obeyed, not looking over at the breakfast table. He didn't want to see anyone's looks of sympathy. He hoped Hermione was having better luck than he was this morning.

Mr Weasley threw another pinch of Floo powder into the flames. "It's going to be a bit of a squeeze, but I think it'll work if we go together."

"Isn't it going to look funny if I always come into work with you?"

"We'll have to come up with another way to do this. No time for it now, though. It should be all right for today. We'll be coming out at a very out-of-the-way fireplace."

Harry knew that the Ministry of Magic wasn't supposed to be connected to the Floo network. Normally witches and wizards who had business at the Ministry and who wished to travel by Floo would come out at the Leaky Cauldron and walk from there. It was a security measure as much as anything, and officially the war was still going on, even though Voldemort hadn't been sighted in over a month and his followers were being rounded up. But Mr Weasley had a friend on the Floo Regulation Panel who had no doubt made some special arrangements.

Harry followed Mr Weasley into the fireplace and took hold of the back of the older wizard's robes when instructed to do so. "Hang on tight, Harry," Mr Weasley told him. "The Ministry of Magic!"

This time Harry felt the ground fall away with a whoosh, and the two began to spin past grate after grate. Harry was soon glad he hadn't bothered with breakfast, as his stomach began to churn. He gripped desperately at Mr Weasley's robes as the motion threatened to drive them apart, and he had no idea what would occur if that happened. All he knew was he definitely didn't want to come out in Knockturn Alley.

They came to a sudden, jarring halt, and the confined space in the crumbling grate was the only thing that kept Harry on his feet. Mr Weasley exited first, brushing off his robes. Harry followed, taking in his surroundings. They seemed to be in an old, neglected part of the Ministry. The walls may have been white at some point, but they were a streaky grey now in the spots where the paint hadn't peeled away entirely to reveal the crumbly brick beneath.

Harry followed Mr Weasley through a bewildering maze of corridors, and as they progressed, conditions began to improve gradually, although there seemed to be a surprising lack of doors along these passages. This was supposed to be the Ministry, so where were the offices? He was also beginning to wonder how he was going to find his way back to the fireplace at the end of the day. He felt much as he had during his first days at Hogwarts, when he was a mere first-year trying to find the potions dungeon.

"The head of your division is Badon Hill," Mr Weasley said, breaking the silence. "He was at Hogwarts about the same time I was. He was a year or so above me, in Ravenclaw."

Harry could tell from the older man's tone that he held Badon Hill in high regard. He nodded but didn't have time to reply, for they came upon a new and unexpected obstacle. One moment, Harry was listening to Mr Weasley tell him about his new boss, and the next he found himself face to face with one of the last people he expected, or indeed wanted, to see.

"Harry! How lovely to see you!" Rita Skeeter was smiling broadly at him, the light from the torches along the corridor glinting off her gold teeth.

Harry stiffened, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "What do you want?" he asked between clenched teeth. He knew it was rude, but he didn't care.

"Why Harry, I just wanted to ask a question or two. My readers are dying to know how you've been ever since you finished school. How it feels to be starting a new job. Whether You-Know-Who is really gone. Just a few small questions…"

"I'm terribly sorry," Mr Weasley broke in, "but we're both running late. Perhaps another time?"

"And you would be?"

"Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."

"Ah, yes, how lovely." But Rita's tone implied that meeting Mr Weasley was anything but lovely. "Harry, perhaps you'd like to explain how you came to choose a career in the Ministry."

"I believe you misunderstood me," Mr Weasley tried again. "I said we haven't got time for this now."

"It doesn't matter, Mr Weasley," said Harry. "I'm not going to have time for this either now or later. Goodbye."

And Harry started off down the corridor, without any clear idea where he was headed. Mr Weasley caught him up quickly, and took his elbow. "This way, Harry."

"Why did she have to turn up today of all days? And how did she know we were going to come this way?"

"I don't know the answer to that," replied Mr Weasley quietly. "She isn't exactly welcome here at the Ministry. Perhaps she found a way to sneak in, and reckoned she'd found a good place to hide." He began to walk faster. "First thing to do is to alert security about her."

Harry followed Mr Weasley with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was bad enough that he had to worry about his co-workers finding out about him. He didn't need the threat of Rita Skeeter exposing him in the press on top of that. And he had no doubt that she would expose him if she knew. Rita Skeeter liked to dig up dirt on whomever she could and she didn't care whom she embarrassed in the process.

They continued round more and more corners until Harry was sure he'd never be able to find his way out again. He wondered if this wasn't part of the security somehow. Anyone who infiltrated this place and didn't know his way would become hopelessly lost in no time. At least there were doors in this part of the Ministry. They all had labels. Harry noticed the Improper Use of Magic Office, the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau and the Goblin Liaison Office in passing.

They finally came to a door marked Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Solicitors. Mr Weasley opened this door to reveal a large room with a counter running along the front of it, reminding Harry a bit of Gringotts. Behind the counter were several desks placed at random about the room. They all looked occupied, but no one looked up or acknowledged Mr Weasley. At the back of the room were two more doors: one bore a nameplate with the name Badon Hill engraved on it, while the other was simply marked Library.

Harry followed Mr Weasley through a swinging door in the counter towards the door marked Badon Hill, but before they could reach it, the door opened and a wizard emerged. He was about as tall as Mr Weasley and looked to be about the same age. His dark hair was streaked with grey, and his blue eyes were lively and sparkling. "Arthur!" he said jovially, extending a hand to Mr Weasley. "How are Molly and the children?"

"All fine, thanks. Sorry we're late. Had a bit of a run-in. You'll want to alert security. Rita Skeeter's skulking about the Department of Mysteries. Think she was looking for an exclusive on Harry, here. Harry Potter, this is Badon Hill, head of this division. Badon Hill, Harry Potter."

Harry put out a hand and shook Mr Hill's. "A pleasure, sir," he said politely, feeling suddenly like Percy.

"Likewise. I hope you'll like working with us. If you'll excuse me for just a moment…"

Mr Hill took Mr Weasley into his office, and Harry thought he heard Rita Skeeter's name come up again. He reckoned it wouldn't be long before security was alerted, and she was escorted out of the Ministry.

While he waited, Harry took a closer look at his surroundings. It looked as if he was going to be working here in some capacity, although he wasn't very clear yet on what he'd be doing. He noticed there was a smaller, vacant desk to one side of the room, near the counter and some filing cabinets. He supposed this was where he'd be working. The other desks were all occupied by witches and wizards, who all looked a lot older than Harry.

Suddenly one of the wizards looked up and caught Harry's eye. He had lank blond hair and very pale grey eyes, which did the all-too-familiar flick upwards to Harry's scar. He did not smile, but continued to stare at Harry for a minute or two, his mouth open slightly as if he normally breathed through it.

"I'll be leaving you here with Badon, Harry." Mr Weasley's voice caused Harry to turn his attention back to his new boss. "I'll come and collect you at the end of the day. Good luck!"

"Goodbye, Mr Weasley."

Harry's heart seemed to sink just a little as Mr Weasley's familiar figure disappeared into the corridor.

"If you'll come into my office, Harry," Mr Hill was saying, "we'll see about getting you settled."

Harry followed him into his office and took the seat he was offered.

"First order of business, Harry. Before we get into anything else, everyone in this office must take an oath of confidentiality. This means that anything that occurs in this office, be it the people passing through it or what is said, even by your co-workers in casual conversation, must be kept in strict confidence. If you are going to work for us you're going to have to agree to taking a magically-binding oath, to which you will remain bound for the rest of your life, even if you leave this department. Can you do that?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Would a magically-binding oath have any effect on him? And if not, shouldn't he make his boss aware of this fact? On the other hand, what was he going to say to anyone? He didn't think he'd have any problem holding to a confidentiality agreement on his own. Not only that, there was an advantage to everyone being under an agreement like this. If any of his co-workers worked out that he no longer had any magical powers, they wouldn't be able to tell anybody.

Mr Hill was watching Harry closely. "Yes, sir," Harry said at last.

He handed Harry a piece of parchment. "In that case, I'll ask you to stand, raise your right hand, and repeat what's written there."

As Harry stood, Hill drew his wand. "What's that for?" Harry asked.

"Just a simple Sincerity Charm. It won't _make_ you sincere, but it will show me _if_ you're sincere."

Harry swallowed and wondered what else the charm might reveal. He raised his right hand and began to read from the parchment, feeling a prickly sensation pass though him. "I, Harry Potter, do solemnly swear…"

Hill put up a hand to stop him. "Hold on a moment. Something's odd here."

Harry suddenly felt cold. "What's the matter?"

"This spell is behaving strangely for me. It's showing me you're sincere about the oath, but you're hiding something else. Something that may affect the oath."

Harry had to work hard at stopping himself from shaking visibly. He was going to have to tell Hill or not take the job, and if he decided not to take the job, Hill would know something was wrong with Harry. Harry didn't know if he could tell a virtual stranger about his lack of powers. He hadn't even told Sirius about it yet. And he didn't know if he could trust this man not to tell… although he too would be bound by the oath of confidentiality. Magically bound. Harry wasn't altogether certain what that meant, but it sounded to him as if it would be physically impossible for Hill to tell anyone anything that happened here. Harry himself had been magically bound to compete in the Triwizard Tournament during his fourth year, after all, and the idea that he could just refuse to compete had not entered his mind even once. Perhaps this oath worked the same way.

"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all," Harry hedged.

Hill lowered his wand slightly but Harry could see it was still trained on him. He was still being tested, and the idea made him more uncomfortable.

"What makes you say that?"

His tone was casual, but it did nothing to put Harry at ease. He hesitated until Hill finally spoke again. "I can see you're nervous about something, but you have something you're hiding from me."

"How can you tell?"

"From the spell I have over you."

"I don't remember learning anything that would let me know what a person is thinking at Hogwarts."

"I can't read your thoughts with it, but I can tell that you're hiding something. They wouldn't teach spells like this at Hogwarts. In any case they're a fairly recent development, but something like this comes in handy when you're a solicitor. You can use it on a client to see if they're giving you the whole story, you see."

Harry fidgeted for a moment in his seat. "That's very interesting."

Hill smiled. "You're not being quite so honest now. You wouldn't be trying to change the subject on me, would you?"

"I guess the spell just showed you that, didn't it?"

"Yes, it did." He paused for a moment before going on. "Harry, I'll be honest with you. It would be an honour for this entire department if you were a part of it."

Harry was stunned at this statement, but then he began to feel irritation rising in him. "But… but why? You don't even know me! It isn't like this is the sort of job where my scar is going to help you out!"

"No, it isn't. Perhaps you can tell me why you didn't take a job where it would."

"I never asked for the fame, and I never asked for this scar!"

"That may be part of the story but it isn't the entire story. Are you sure you can't tell me?"

Hill was looking at him expectantly, waiting for Harry to say something. Harry met his gaze and saw a pair of blue eyes that reminded him of Albus Dumbledore somehow. He remembered the previous year when he'd kept back information from the headmaster, information that could have led to potential disaster. That helped him make up his mind. He swallowed hard. "I think I know what the problem you were having with your spell may be."

"Yes?"

"First I need to know how this confidentiality oath works. Will anything I tell you now be covered under that?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Whether I end up working for you or not?"

"Yes, Harry."

"So you won't be able to tell anyone else about it?"

"I'd be able to tell one of the other people in this office about it, and I'd be able to tell some other people higher up in the Ministry, as they've also taken this oath. But I wouldn't be able to tell them for no reason at all. They'd have to ask me and they have to have good reason to know about it. It's all written out on that parchment."

Harry looked down at his parchment again and read through the entire oath. Hill had just summed it up in less formal language. Perhaps this oath was one reason why Mr Weasley had thought that Magical Law Enforcement would be a good department for Harry to work in. He took a deep breath. "All right then. I don't want what I'm about to tell you to leave this room."

Harry paused until Hill nodded his assent. "Oath or no oath, I wouldn't tell a soul, Harry."

"Last month, when I duelled with Voldemort I used an ancient spell on him, which was supposed to banish him from this world, but at the same time it robbed me of all my powers. And they're not going to come back. I know that. I can't even receive owls. Only my own can find me but that's because she knows me. So if this oath is magically binding, perhaps it won't work on me. I guess there's no point in me staying." He got up to leave.

Hill looked surprised for a moment, and then he let out a heavy sigh. "No, stay, please." He paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. "Well, I suppose this explains a few things, like why someone like you, with your record, didn't go into Auror training. Or try out for a Quidditch team."

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly, taking his seat again. "So does this mean the magically binding part won't work on me?"

"In truth, I really have no idea. It's never been done before. However, I believe that the Sincerity Charm has proven that you're in earnest about taking the oath, and I am glad you told me about this. I suppose I'll just have to take your word for it. You may proceed. If you still want to, that is."

Harry raised his right hand slowly once more and began to read from the parchment. "I, Harry Potter, do solemnly swear never to reveal anything that transpires within the confines of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, be it job-related or otherwise, to anyone who is not also constrained by this oath of confidentiality. I shall only reveal that information, which it is necessary for me to reveal to others who are constrained by this oath."

When he'd finished, he lowered his hand and waited for Hill to say something. He wasn't sure why Hill was letting him take this job now that he knew about Harry's shortcomings, and he wasn't even certain he wanted to know the answer if he asked. He was afraid Hill would say what had already occurred to Harry: that if he didn't take this job, what job would he possibly be able to take and still remain part of the wizarding world?

"The second order of business here is to tell you what your job will entail. This office needs a clerk. Basically what that means is you will help out any of the solicitors who require help. And if someone comes into the office, you will be the one who directs them to whomever they need to see."

"And how am I supposed to help out the solicitors? I know nothing about the law."

"We'll come to that in a moment. A lot of what it entails is you getting out the appropriate files. You'll see the system. It's quite easy."

Harry was tempted to comment that if the system was so easy why couldn't the solicitors get their own files, but he didn't think that was a good idea on his first day.

"But," Hill went on, "another part of the job involves research. The staff here are probably going become very busy in a short amount of time and the cases they will be preparing will require research into precedents and such. They will not have time to adequately prepare if they have to look all this up themselves, so they may call on your help with their research."

"But…"

"It's all in the library. You only need to look it up for them. They can do the rest."

Harry's heart sunk a bit further. This wasn't a job for him; it was Hermione's dream job. Still, she and Ron had looked up legal defences for Buckbeak in their third year, so perhaps it wouldn't be too bad. Of course, Buckbeak hadn't won his case.

"I'll be getting you started in a moment. Your first assignment will be to become familiar with the laws of wizarding Britain. That will help you know where to look when it comes to helping research specific cases."

Harry tried to smile, but he didn't think he did a very good job of it. He just didn't feel he could get very excited about a job that revolved around research. But maybe he was wrong… There were going to be trials coming up, trials of former Death Eaters. He'd at least be helping put Voldemort's former followers into Azkaban, even if it was only in a small capacity. And there was Sirius. Maybe he could come across something that would help him.

Hill was standing and heading for the door. "Come along, and I'll introduce you to your co-workers. Don't be afraid to ask questions. They know you're new and have no experience with the law yet, so I'm sure they'll be prepared to give you plenty of help."

Harry followed Hill back into the main office, noticing immediately that no one reacted to their presence in the room. "They all have Silencing Charms cast about their desks. Keeps distraction to a minimum. That's one reason why we need you to answer anyone who comes in. They won't hear it if someone turns up at the counter."

"But what if I can't answer their questions?"

"Most of the people who come in here come in to meet with either me or one of the other solicitors. You won't have to respond to any sort of legal questions. You'll just have to direct them to whomever they're here to see."

Harry let out a breath. That didn't sound quite so bad, but he wondered what he was going to do all day, anyway. It didn't exactly look as if people were lining up at the door to meet with a solicitor.

Hill introduced Harry to the others in turn. The first was an elderly-looking witch named Delores Mutt. Next came Nigel Jones, Deirdre Pewty and Vivian Brooke. The last person Harry met was the wizard he'd noticed while he was waiting for Mr Weasley to finish with Mr Hill. His name was Gervaise St John, and he shook Harry's hand with a lot of showy enthusiasm. "The famous Harry Potter," he said rather loudly. "What a pleasure!" Something about his tone reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart for some reason.

"Now, Harry, if you have any questions, Gervaise here will be the one to ask," said Hill. "He used to have your job, but he's recently been promoted. Gervaise, you'll be sure and show Harry the ropes, won't you? Help him find his feet?"

"Absolutely, sir!"

"Fine then. Perhaps you'd like to show Harry the library and show him what he needs to read up on first so he'll be ready to help out with research."

Hill walked back to his office, leaving Harry with Gervaise St John. St John' smile faded almost as soon as Hill disappeared. "Come on, then. I haven't got all day."

Harry followed St John into the library, which was lined with shelves filled floor to ceiling with very thick tomes. St John began pulling volumes at random. When he'd collected four or five, he handed them to Harry. "Here, these will do to get you started."

Harry felt as if his arms were going to drop off under the weight of the law books. At the very least, he wouldn't be surprised if his arms didn't stretch a few inches as he lugged the stack over towards the empty desk near the counter. St John looked ready to abandon him there, so he spoke up. "Erm, how long do I have to read these?"

St John gave a bark of laughter. "Well, you don't really have to read them. You just need to be familiar with them. Go through them until you generally know which laws are explained where. I gave you those because those are the laws were most likely to need to look up in the next few months."

Harry looked at the titles and saw that the texts mostly had to do with Dark Arts offences. St John began to turn away once again. "Wait, what do I do if someone comes in?"

"They'll tell you who they want to see. You just show them to that person's desk." He sounded as if this should have been blatantly evident to Harry.

"And what about the files?"

"I haven't got time to go over that with you now," St John replied impatiently. "It's fairly easy to work out on your own. If someone needs a file, they can get it themselves for now. Let them show you how it works!"

Harry didn't dare say another word, because he was afraid that he'd blurt out what he was really thinking. He was glad that Hill and the others seemed a lot nicer. Perhaps one of them would prove to be more helpful. With a heavy sigh, he heaved the books onto his desk.

He sat down and opened the first volume in the stack. The pages were almost see-through they were so thin, and the print was so small Harry's eyes watered just to look at it. How was he ever going to become familiar with all this enough to know what was where? He propped his chin up on his hand and began to read.

It wasn't very long before he noticed that the author of this book tended to take quite a lot of words to say whatever he was trying to say. It just went on and on and on… Not unlike Professor Binns. Harry had to fight to keep from falling into a stupor, which was difficult when he had to read sentences over several times to work out what they meant. He was sure even Hermione didn't know what a lot of these words meant. He certainly didn't.

After a while he quit caring and read, but words and meaning were no longer sinking in. The sound of someone clearing his throat brought Harry out of a trance-like state. He looked up and blinked for a moment. There was someone standing at the counter, and Harry remembered he was supposed to see what he wanted, but he sat for a few seconds in surprise. Of all the people he could possibly have met his first day on the job, he'd never expected this.

"Well," drawled a familiar voice, "fancy meeting you here, Potter."

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Spot the Python references… *grin*


	7. Chapter 7

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Seven

Harry stared for a moment longer in surprise before getting up and walking over to the counter. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy shook his head, a mock expression of hurt crossing his pointed features. "Come now, Potter. Is that how they taught you to respond to people? Whatever happened to 'How may I be of service, Mr Malfoy?' "

"Sorry, I don't think I heard you right. It sounded to me like you were mistaking yourself for someone important."

"What's the matter? Too good to be a civil _servant_?" He shook his head. "The great Harry Potter, relegated to an entry-level position in the Ministry. How my heart bleeds for you."

"Who are you here to see, Malfoy? If you have business in this department, things can't be going all that well for you, can they? Are they fitting out a private cell in Azkaban for you?"

"I was on Dumbledore's side in the last battle."

"So you say. It must have suited your ends. But someone must not believe you if you're here."

"That's none of your business, Potter."

Malfoy's face was beginning to flush pink, and Harry reckoned he must have touched a nerve. "Who are you were to see?" he asked again. "Whoever it is, maybe they'll be good enough to get you a reduced sentence."

"Hill," Malfoy grated.

Harry grinned. "Head of the division. Things must be really bad then."

"Just shut up and do what they're paying you to do. And for your information, if I was under suspicion of anything, I'd be talking to my own, private solicitor, not using one of the Ministry's."

Harry shrugged. "I just reckoned any solicitor your family had retained would be in as much trouble as you are. But have it your way. Hill's office is through that door." He indicated Hill's office by pointing. He'd be damned if he was going to lead Malfoy over to the office like some butler. "Don't forget to knock."

Draco sneered at Harry before heading towards Badon Hill's office. Harry felt a grim sort of satisfaction at the sound of knuckles on wood that reached his ears as he regained his desk. He sighed heavily. The law books hadn't magically disappeared or become any smaller while he'd been seeing to Malfoy. 

He sat down again and forced himself to read about the trial of Hermenegild the Hideous, who'd been accused of bewitching Muggles to make their skin shrivel so that he could use it for potions ingredients, but who had been let off on a technicality, leading to the 1354 reform of… Harry felt himself drifting off into a stupor once more, as the words seemed to blur on the page. How anyone ever managed to stay awake long enough to get through this was beyond him. 

Harry redoubled his efforts at concentration and began again. Some indeterminate time amount of later, a shadow fell across the page he was reading. "What _are_ you doing, Potter? Trying to bore yourself silly?"

Harry sighed. Malfoy was back. "Don't you have somewhere else you need to be?" Harry asked peevishly. "I hear the holding cells down at the Auror division are quite cosy."

Malfoy looked at his watch with nonchalance. "As a matter of fact, I do have another appointment here, but it isn't for another half an hour."

"Well, you're not going to kill time by bothering me. I've got work to do."

"So I see." Malfoy turned the cover of Harry's book over so he could read it. "_The Excruciating Details of Every Single Dark Arts Trial in Britain for the Past Millennium_. Sounds fascinating. Do they actually pay you to sit round all day and read this rubbish?"

"At least I've got a job. That's more than I can say for your sorry Death Eater arse."

"That's what you think."

"That's what I know."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You don't know anything."

"I know what you've got on your arm."

"And what's that?" Malfoy was suddenly rolling up the left sleeve of his robes. "There! See that?" He'd thrust his left arm in front of Harry's face. The skin on his forearm was perfectly clear and smooth.

"What did you do, Malfoy? How did you manage to get rid of it?"

"I didn't have to do a thing. It went away on its own." He was rolling his sleeve back down now. "It started fading after the battle in Hogsmeade. A few days later, it was gone entirely."

Harry stared at Malfoy but there was no lie discernible in the Slytherin's features.

"You see, there's no way of telling I ever had it." Malfoy sounded quite pleased with himself. 

Harry didn't know what to say. His mind started whirling with thoughts. If the Dark Mark had disappeared from the forearms of all of Voldemort's former followers, then how was the Ministry going to be able to tell who had actually been a Death Eater and who hadn't? He suddenly began to understand what Mr Weasley and others had meant when they'd tried to explain how confusing times had been for the Ministry following Voldemort's first defeat. But then he remembered the Sincerity Charm Hill had used on him earlier. It had been a recent development, Hill had said. The Ministry could avail themselves of that and send the right people to prison this time.

Draco spoke again, bringing Harry out of his musings. "Well, it's been fun, Potter, but I really must be off. I've got another appointment, and it's probably going to take a while before I find where I need to be."

Harry watched Malfoy's retreating back, happy that he wasn't the only person who found the Ministry's labyrinthine passages confusing. He wondered what other department Malfoy could possibly have business with, and he wondered what Malfoy had been talking to Hill about. Malfoy had been right about one thing. If he was talking to the Ministry solicitors, he had to be co-operating in some capacity. And he had been on Dumbledore's side in Hogsmeade… Could Snape have somehow convinced him he was better off on that side? But he'd had the Dark Mark… Although he hadn't seemed to happy about that fact when Harry had discovered it last winter. Perhaps he had been forced into getting it. But just maybe the fact that he'd had it had put him into a position where he could name names, and perhaps that's what his meeting with Hill had been about. It might be worth discussing with Ron and Hermione that evening…

No, he couldn't do that. He'd sworn not to discuss anything that happened in this office. If he was going to work things like this out, he was on his own now. He'd just have to keep his eyes and ears open… With a final sigh he went back to his books.

It was a while before Harry got another excuse to stop reading. The sound of someone clearing her throat made him look up, grateful for the distraction. He found Delores Mutt peering directly at him from behind her spectacles. Their eyes were at the same level, Harry realised, even though he was seated and she was standing. Funny, he thought, she hadn't seemed like such a wisp of a woman when he'd met her earlier. Now she struck him as positively delicate, as if the slightest breeze might knock her over. She began to smile at him in what he thought must be a grandmotherly sort of way, as she offered him a piece of parchment.

"I have a list of files I need you to pull for me, dear," she said in a kindly tone.

Harry took the parchment from her and read it. It looked to him like nothing but a jumble of meaningless numbers and letters. He shook his head, thinking he'd become addled by his most recent reading material and hoping to clear it, but the parchment remained just as incomprehensible, reminding him of the books of runes he'd gone through last spring. He looked from the filing cabinets back to the parchment several times but saw nothing on any of the drawers that might indicate which file would be found where or indeed whether the files were stored in these particular cabinets at all.

He could feel Mrs Mutt's expectant gaze on him and felt as if he ought to at least make an attempt to find what she wanted. She seemed quite a sweet old lady, after all, and he felt as if he wanted to please her. He opened a drawer at random.

"Not that one, dear." Mrs Mutt's voice cracked through the air, causing him to jump at its sudden sharpness.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. His surprise at her sudden change in demeanour was quickly overtaken by a rising sense of irritation that she should snap at him when he hadn't been shown how the system worked. He began to reach for the next drawer.

"No, no! Didn't St John show you anything?"

Harry's face began to burn as he turned and faced Mrs Mutt. "No, actually, he didn't. He said I could work it out on my own."

"Typical," Mrs Mutt muttered. "When are they going to hire someone who knows how to do his job properly?"

"I'm sorry," Harry replied as politely as he could, given the increasing annoyance he was feeling. "It's only my first day, and I wasn't shown…"

"Oh, I wasn't referring to you, dear." Mrs Mutt took a step closer and said in a confidential tone, "I meant St John. Between you and me, he's rather a…" -- she used a word Harry would have never expected out of Ron's mouth, let alone such a grandmotherly sort--"…isn't he?"

Harry gaped for a moment, and then he had to struggle to keep down the laughter that wanted to escape. He couldn't stop himself from grinning, however. "I've only just met him, but, yeah, I can see where you'd get that idea."

"Let's put it this way, dearie. I've worked in this office a good, long time. We've never had a clerk last as long as he did."

"No disrespect, but it doesn't seem to be the most exciting job in the world."

"No, but was he clever enough to get something else? In any case, it's an entry-level position. You're not supposed to keep it for very long. If you do your job properly and show the merest modicum of intelligence, you get promoted within a year or two. He had your job for the last fifteen years. The only reason they promoted him at all was out of desperation. We're going to find ourselves swamped with cases, dearie, you mark my words. I remember the first time it happened." Harry saw her flick her snapping eyes upwards for a second, and she gave a nod of acknowledgement. 

Her words made Harry concerned about the possibility of some of Voldemort's followers escaping imprisonment due to St John's apparent incompetence. He looked worriedly over towards St John's desk, wondering what he'd make of this conversation if he knew about it, but St John's head was bent over a parchment. His lips were moving as he evidently read it over, and Harry remembered there were Silencing Charms cast about each solicitor's desk. "But if he's not qualified, won't that…"

Mrs Mutt cut him off. "Oh, if Hill knows what he's doing, and he does, he'll give St John all the easy cases, and hopefully they'll be insignificant ones as well, because he'll find a way to bollox them up."

Harry thought of Percy and how well he'd had to do on his NEWTs to get an entry-level job like this one. Then he remembered Mr Weasley's reaction to Harry's own exam results. Something didn't quite add up about St John. "But how'd he get a Ministry position in the first place if he isn't that clever? He'd've to have done well on his NEWTs."

"I wouldn't know about that, dearie. It wasn't my decision to hire him. All I know is he had some sort of family connections that helped him out. He couldn't have done well on his exams. He isn't clever enough. But, well, that's the Ministry for you," she said resignedly. "Come on then," she added abruptly. I haven't got all day. Let me show you how the filing system works, and then I'll show you the wonders of the Ministry canteen."

Mrs Mutt was the second person today who had told him she didn't have all day, but Harry wasn't left with quite the same impression this time.

*

Ginny tried to make herself concentrate on her History of Magic homework, but she wasn't having a whole lot of luck. She really wasn't any further along with it than she had been almost three weeks ago. She'd hoped to get it finished today, since the Burrow was nearly empty, but thoughts of Harry and how he was getting on his first day at work kept intruding. He'd be home soon, she told herself, and then she'd know. Until then, she really ought to be getting something constructive done.

Ron was sitting across the room from her, idly moving chess pieces around on the board. He didn't seem to be faring any better than she was. It was probably even worse for him, because he couldn't even pretend to be doing homework while he waited for Hermione to come home. 

Not even the out-of-doors beckoned to either of them today. The weather was grey and blustery. There was nothing to do but sit in the house and wait.

A sudden _pop_ in the room startled Ginny. She turned to see that Hermione had appeared looking very pleased with herself.

"What did I tell you this morning?" asked Ron. "You were fine, weren't you?"

Ginny turned away while they kissed. "How was your day?" she heard her brother murmur.

"Tiring," came Hermione's reply. "There's more to running a library than I thought. I just spent the entire day learning the intricacies of the cataloguing system."

"All the time you spent there, and you don't have it memorised by now?"

"It's not as simple as you think, Ron. I may be familiar enough with it to find what I want, but when it comes to classifying a new book, that another story entirely. Loads of them are straightforward, but what do you do with _Wolfsbane, Poison or Pal_?"

Ron shrugged and looked blank. "Herbology?" he guessed at last. "Wait, no… Snape made a Potion out of that for Professor Lupin, so Potions."

"Yes, but don't you remember? We studied werewolves in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh, so it goes with those books then."

"Actually, no it doesn't."

"Where does it go then? Certainly not in the Care of Magical Creatures section?"

"Of course it doesn't."

"Well, where does it go then?"

As Ginny watched, Hermione started to go pink, and she didn't reply.

"You don't know, do you?"

"I haven't got that one sorted yet. Madam Pince said she'd help me with that one tomorrow. We only got to it at the end of the day when it was time to go home."

"That was a trick question then!"

"It was not!"

"Yes, it was. You didn't know the answer! But don't worry, I still love you even if you aren't as perfect as I thought."

Ginny almost choked at that, and Hermione started to splutter. But before she could say anything further, Ginny's mother walked into the living room. "Oh, Hermione, you're home," she said smiling. "How was your day, dear?"

"Just fine, thanks."

"Ginny," her mother said, "you wouldn't happen to know where I put my copy of _One Minute Feasts--It's Magic_, would you?"

"Sorry, Mum, I haven't seen it."

"Don't bother asking Hermione, Mum," Ron added. "She doesn't know where all the books go yet."

"Honestly, Ron!" Hermione replied, swatting him on the arm.

Before anyone could add anything else, a whirring sound was heard from the corner. Ginny looked to see the longest hand on the grandfather clock was in motion, passing from "work" to "travelling" to "home" in the space of a few seconds. She got up from her seat and headed into the kitchen to find her father emerging from the fireplace bearing a bulky package. He was followed by a tired-looking Harry, who had his arms full of books.

"Hello, Harry, dear. Why don't you put those books down. They must be heavy. What have you got now, Arthur?" came her mother's voice from behind Ginny, and it was amazing how quickly her tone had changed mid-statement. An instant later, she had entered the kitchen and was looking suspiciously at the package at her husband's feet, while Harry laid his burden on the counter.

"I'm not quite sure, actually," replied Ginny's father. "Someone in the Muggle Artefact Division of American Department of Magic sent it to our office. He thought we might be interested."

"So you thought it would be a good idea to bring it home and tinker with it? Do you even know what it does?"

"Well, no, but I reckoned if I took it apart I could work out what it was for. So far I've worked out that it runs on eckeltricity--it has a plug--and if I just enchanted…"

"No, Arthur."

"No?"

"Don't you have enough contraptions that are half taken apart in that shed of yours? How long has that laundry machine been in there gathering dust? And you want to add to the clutter? And don't think I've forgotten what happened with that car…"

Ginny caught Harry's eye and motioned with her head to come into the living room while her parents finished discussing her father's latest acquisition. Ginny was used to this argument. It always began the same way, with her mother protesting, but somehow her father always managed to keep whatever it was he wanted to fiddle with. She didn't doubt for a moment that her father was about to add to his collection of Muggle gadgets.

Harry followed her into the living room, and she had just squeezed his hand and was about to ask him how his day had gone, when something else caught her attention. Ron and Hermione had remained behind when the rest of them had gone into the kitchen, and it was now apparent why they'd done so. They were currently quite occupied.

Ginny leaned up and gave Harry a quick peck on the lips, before giving him a mischievous grin. Then she turned to Ron and Hermione and did her best impression of her mother. "And just what is going on in here? If you think this is the spot to have a conjugal visit, you have another think coming!"

Ron and Hermione jumped apart amazingly fast. "Ginny, what's the idea?" Ron demanded, his ears reddening. Hermione had placed a hand over her heart.

"Just thought someone else might want to know how it feels," Ginny replied in her most innocent voice.

"Oh, we know how it feels, believe me…"

"How was your day, Harry?" Hermione intervened before a row could break out.

"Very long," Harry replied, and Ginny thought he sounded tired. "And you'll never guess who I saw… Sorry."

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Er, sorry, I'm not supposed to say. I had to take an oath of confidentiality."

"You can still tell us, can't you?" Ron prodded.

"No, he can't," said Hermione. "He's under oath. You'd best get used to it. I imagine you're going to have to take something similar once you become an Auror."

"Can you at least tell us what you do?" Ron tried again.

"It's not very exciting. So far I've done a lot of sitting around reading law books. When I'm not fetching things for people, that is."

"Law books?" said Hermione. "I imagine there's quite a few interesting cases in them. You wouldn't mind if I took a look at them, would you? Are you allowed to show them to me?"

"I don't see why not. But they're about as interesting as Professor Binns."

Ginny was getting the distinct feeling that this job really wasn't going to prove to be a good match for Harry. He definitely didn't sound very enthusiastic about it. The idea gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ever since they'd talk things out, she'd been feeling a bit more hopeful about the future. She'd stopped worrying that she'd wake up one morning and find he'd left the wizarding world. But now that feeling was returning, seeping back into her heart like icy water. If he felt like there was nothing worthwhile that he could do in the wizarding world, and if this was truly the only job he was qualified to do, then he might still leave them. On top of that she'd be leaving for school in less than a month. She wasn't going to be around to see Harry from day to day, should he give any sort of sign he might be thinking along those lines.

She also remembered that she'd asked him to try a Ministry position and he'd agreed. What if he stayed in a job where he was essentially unhappy for her sake? She didn't think she wanted to deal with that thought either. 

Her mother was calling them to come in to supper, and Ginny tried to chase her gloomy thoughts away, but they stayed with her during the meal. She played with her food while the conversation seemed to revolve around the inevitable changes that were going to take place whether she wanted them to or not. The twins announced that they'd be moving back into Zonko's and taking Pauline with them, which earned George a stern glance from his mother. While Ginny was glad her mother's ire was directed elsewhere for once, she still found it a bit ridiculous at George's age, especially when he'd been living at Zonko's with Pauline the entire previous year. 

Hermione would be leaving soon, as well, to stay at Hogwarts, but she wouldn't be leaving until the following week when Ron left for Auror training. Ginny's mum had pretended to wipe a tear from her eye, saying all her babies were leaving her, but Ginny wasn't sure she was being completely facetious. 

Bill was the only one who was going to remain at homefor the moment. He was anxious to get back to his job in Egypt, but he was still waiting on word from the Order if his services were still required. They didn't seem to be, but he hadn't been released from duty either. Until he was, he remained in a sort of limbo.

As everyone was leaving the table, Ginny's mum suddenly said, "Oh, Harry, I completely forgot. This came for you while you were at the Ministry today."

She was holding out a letter, which Harry took. Ginny caught a glimpse of the address, but while the writing may have been somewhat familiar, she didn't recognise who had sent it immediately. Harry obviously did, for he got out of his seat, excusing himself in a rather distracted fashion, and left the kitchen.

Ginny wanted to follow him right away, but at the same time she knew she ought to let him read his letter in private. Based on Harry's reaction, she suspected it was Professor Lupin's reply to the letter Harry had written to him almost a week ago. Her mother was also asking for help in clearing the table.

Ginny soon found herself doing the washing up with Hermione. "Did you get a chance to do any research?" she asked after making sure no one else was within earshot.

"No, I had too many other things to keep me occupied. Once I've learned how everything works, I'll have more time for it. I don't really expect to get started before the first of September, though. Sorry."

Ginny nodded. "It's frustrating, isn't it? I have to sit around the house and do homework that I don't particularly want to do, and you've got a whole library full of books you could be going through, and you can't."

"September will be here soon enough."

"It'll come too fast for me. As much as I want to find a way to help Harry, I don't want to leave…"

Mr Weasley came through the kitchen, cutting Ginny off. "You're not planning on spending the entire evening in your shed, are you, Arthur?" her mother's voice called after him.

"I've got to find something I can use to make Harry a Portkey, Molly," he called back. "We can't keep going into the Ministry by Floo. It'll look funny."

Ginny's mother joined them in the kitchen. "Yes, but a Portkey?" she replied, sounding worried. Ginny exchanged a glance with Hermione. Although Harry would never complain about it, they all knew he'd preferred other means of travel ever since the end of his fourth year. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be much other choice now.

"It's the best solution I can come up with, Molly. A very small Portkey, one he can hide in his pocket or conceal in his hand, which will allow him to travel between here and the Ministry. If no one knows any differently, they'll think he's Apparating. I can set it to come out at the Ministry's Apparition point."

Ginny's mother sighed. "I suppose if there's no other way…"  


"I can't think of one, can you?"

Her mother relented at that point, and her father continued out to his shed. "You go on, girls," her mother said to them. "I'll finish up in here."

It didn't take long for Hermione to disappear outside with Ron. Ginny found Harry alone in the living room reading over his letter. She wanted very much to ask Harry what was in the letter, but she wasn't sure how to go about asking him. It wasn't technically any of her business. She also wanted him to tell her how he really felt about his job at the Ministry, but she hesitated, thinking it might be better if the decision to tell her came from him for once. She'd bullied him into sharing a lot of things with her lately, and perhaps it was time to lighten up a bit in that regard.

He looked up as she sat down beside him. "Hi," she said.

"Hi yourself."

He casually draped an arm across the back of the sofa on which they were sitting. "Where is everyone? How did we get so lucky as to actually get a minute alone without your mother turning up?"

Ginny snuggled closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "She's in the kitchen. I expect she'll turn up any moment now. I missed you today."

"Me too."

"How'd it go today. Really?" The words had come out before she could stop them.

"There's a real git in the office. Everyone else seems quite decent, though. It'll get better once I'm used to things. You've got competition, you know."

"What?"

"I got asked to lunch today. You'll want to watch out."

"By who?"

"Oh, she's really cute, she is."

"Who is she? And did you go?"

"Of course, I went. Not every day a girl like her tries to chat you up."

"You're having me on."

"I am not. I did get asked to lunch."

"There's a catch to it somewhere."

"How do you know?"  


"You're laying it on a bit thick."

Harry chuckled. "Well, she's got to be a hundred if she's a day. Nice old lady though. Although I think I want to stay on her good side. You don't want to know how she refers to the git."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

Harry leaned over and whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go round with surprise. At the same time she shivered at the sensation of his warm breath in her ear. "I think I'll have to meet this lady myself just to see if I've really got competition."

"You're going to have to come into Diagon Alley for your school things at some point. You could drop by and visit on my lunch hour."

"As long as I don't find you have a previous engagement." 

She'd meant it lightly but it didn't come out quite the way she'd expected. The reminder of school and their impending separation had made her voice catch slightly. 

Harry's hand slipped from the back of the sofa to her shoulder and squeezed. "I was just kidding, you know."

"I know, but maybe you want a woman with eighty-odd years more experience than I've got."

"Hey!" Harry cried in mock outrage, before he swatted her with the envelope in his hand.

"Is that from Professor Lupin?"

"Yeah."

"What does he say?"

"In my letter to him I told him how I'd been acting, well, before. When we first got back from school. And I told him I didn't really like how I'd been behaving towards everyone, and asked if there was anything I could do to stop. And he wrote back and told me if I'd worked out that much on my own, I was doing a pretty good job. And he said I should just try to talk about things more…"

"You can always talk to me, Harry. You know that."

"Yes, I know, but what am I going to do after this month?"

There it was again. "Write to me. Write to Professor Lupin. Write it down, and don't show anybody, but don't keep it inside."

"He wants me to tell Sirius."

"You're going to. You've always planned to."

"No, he wants me to tell him as soon as possible. He thinks I should ask Sirius to come and see me so I can tell him."

Something in Harry's tone told her he didn't think this was the best thing to do. "Why wouldn't you do that?"

"Because there's news in this letter, too. Sirius is really close to catching Wormtail. And if I ask him to drop everything and come here, Wormtail may slip through again. I can't let that happen. Sirius is on the verge being able to clear his name. I can't take that away from him for something like this."

"He's going to want to know, Harry."

"I'll tell him, I promise. I never had any intention of keeping this from him. I'll just wait till he's caught Wormtail."

"But you don't know how long that will take. What's Sirius going to think when he learns how long you've been keeping this from him? Everyone else knows but him."

"I can't take the chance of him dropping everything for me. He's done it before. In my fourth year he came out of hiding and risked being sent back to Azkaban because I'd had a bad dream."

"He wants to be there for you, Harry. You showed me what he wrote in his letter to you. How's he going to feel when he learns you needed him and he wasn't there for you? He wasn't able to be there for twelve years, and he feels bad about that."

"Yes, and it's all because of Wormtail that he couldn't. Now he's got a chance to clear that up. I can't give him reason to drop that. There will be plenty of time for me to tell him once this business with Wormtail is over."

"You have to let him know something's up."

"He knows. He said so in his letter. Lupin told him something."

"He needs to hear it from you, Harry. You can tell him to put catching Wormtail first, but he has to know you have something important to tell him so he'll come and see you right away." 

She didn't add what else she was thinking: that now that Harry was out among other witches and wizards, the chances were greater that his secret would be discovered. And if that happened, the possibility of Sirius learning of it through a third party increased, and that definitely couldn't be allowed to occur.

Harry let out a breath, and Ginny could sense some tension drain out of him. He took his arm from around her shoulders and leaned forward burying his face in his hands for a moment. Then he pushed them back through his hair causing it to stand on end. "I suppose you're right," he said at last. "If I word things properly, he won't think it's an emergency and come running."

Ginny reached over and rubbed a hand over his back. "It'll be all right," she soothed.

He turned his face towards hers. "Promise?"

"You know I can't promise you something like that."

"Humour me."

"All right then…"

He was still holding her gaze. "You know, your mother has left us alone in here for quite a while now. You think there's a chance she's forgotten?"

"Not a chance. We can only hope she's decided to spy on Ron and Hermione for once. After all, I still owe you."

"Yeah, you do, don't you?"

She began to lean in, but Harry met her halfway. She needed to keep this quick and soft in case her mother, or worse one of the twins, walked in on them, but Harry seemed to have other ideas. He took over the kiss, deepening it, and making it last longer than she'd ever intended. Ginny's heart began to race. It had been so long since they'd opened themselves and poured their feelings into a kiss like this. She felt the backs of her eyes begin to prickle, and she had to pull away.

She stared into his burning eyes, lips parted and breathing hard. A smile was beginning to break over his features. "Fifteen," he whispered.

One of his hands found the back of her neck and slid up into her hair, cradling the back of her head, holding it steady, while his other arm encircled her waist. Slowly he slid closer to her, their eyes never breaking contact, but his lips didn't meet hers right away. As she'd done to him on his birthday, he gently touched them to each cheek, then the corners of her mouth, her forehead, and the tip of her nose.

She'd long since closed her eyes, but when he still didn't kiss her full on the lips, she opened them again. At the same time she felt his forehead touch hers, and his grip on her tightened. There was a great deal more passion in his gaze than she'd seen in a long time, perhaps more than she ever had. "I've missed this," he said.

"I've missed you, Harry."

"I love you, Ginny."

The very words caused her to shudder with need, and she reached up to him and closed the final gap, pulling him down with her, and then she forgot about the danger of being caught. She let him take his time and explore, while her hands softly caressed their way down the sides of his neck, over the upper part of his chest and around to his back. Then she simply held on and sought to draw him closer. She wanted to be close to him. As close as it was possible for two people to be… 

"WHAT ON EARTH DO THE TWO OF YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Ginny's heart began to beat even further out of control but it was due to panic this time at the sound of her mother's voice. Harry pulled back from her and righted himself, while she hastened to do the same. As she sat up she caught a glimpse of Harry's panicked expression. 

Ginny felt the best way out of the situation was not to behave as if she'd been doing anything she ought to be ashamed of. She hadn't been after all. So she made herself face her mother's fury squarely, but she couldn't prevent the blush that insisted on staining her cheeks in spite of herself.

"Honestly, I can't let any of you out of my sight for more than a few minutes!" her mother was continuing. "I no sooner get through telling off Ron and Hermione for the same thing outside and I come in to find the two of you tearing each other's clothes off in my living room!"

Ginny felt irritation rising in her at her mother's blatant exaggeration. "Honestly, Mum! It's not as if we were doing anything like that!"

"And if I'd waited a few minutes longer?"

"We were just kissing. What's so wrong about that? It's not as if we ever get a chance round here in any case. Someone's always turning up."

"And a good thing, too. Look what the two of you get up to when you're left to your own devices!"

"We can control ourselves!"

Ginny's mother crossed her arms over her chest. "Is that what you call controlling yourselves?"

"We weren't going to _do_ anything!"

"That's not what it looked like to me!"

"Oh please, Mum, Harry and I haven't done half the things the boys have done. We were only kissing."

"If you call that only kissing, young lady, I can see we need to have another talk!"

"What did you see, Mum? Were his hands anywhere they shouldn't have been? Were mine?"

Harry suddenly stood up, having evidently heard all he was prepared to of this conversation. "I think I'll leave the two of you to your talk then, shall I?"

Ginny took her eyes off her glaring mother long enough to take in Harry's red face. She grabbed his hand and pulled it forcefully enough to make him sit down again. "You're not going anywhere. We weren't doing anything we ought to be ashamed of, and it's time Mum realised that!" 

"No, Ginny, I think Harry should leave."

"And I think he should stay."

Beside her, Ginny thought she heard Harry mumbling something about nobody caring what he wanted, but she ignored that for now. She had to remain focussed on her mother. 

"I don't know what's got into you lately, Ginny," her mother was going on. "You've changed so much."

"I've grown up, mother, that's what happened. I'm seventeen now. I'm of age."

"If you're so grown up, I'd expect you to have more respect for your father and me."

"I _do_ have respect for you. It was just a kiss, Mum. Can you honestly tell me you and Dad never kissed when you were our age?"

"Mrs Weasley," Harry broke in, "Ginny's telling you the truth. We haven't done anything like that. We'd never think of doing anything like that under your roof."

It was probably a mistake. Ginny's mother rounded on him. "You wouldn't think of doing anything under my _roof_? Just where were you planning on doing it then?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "That's not what I meant. I mean, of course we've thought about it, but we haven't done anything."

"Thought about _what_, exactly." Each word was said with a frightening calm.

"Harry," Ginny said quietly, "you're _not _helping."

"You should have let me leave when I wanted," he grated back at her.

The sound of someone clearing his throat made them all turn. Ginny's father was standing in the doorway that led in from the kitchen. "Arthur!" exclaimed Ginny's mother. "You're here."

"Yes, Molly, the shouting was a bit difficult to miss. I've heard quite a bit of this, actually."

"Well, say something to your daughter."

"Molly, I'm sure she and Harry weren't doing anything inappropriate. They probably just got a bit carried away."

"Arthur! With an attitude like that, I'm surprised I'm not a grandmother already!"

"I think we all need to calm down," said Ginny's father, ignoring his wife's outburst. "I think if Harry and Ginny promise to remain in control, everything will be fine. Molly…"

"Me? What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing dear, I just think you ought to give everyone a bit more space. I saw what happened with Ron and Hermione outside. Molly, it's all this hovering. They'll take any chance they can for a kiss here and there with you watching them so closely."

"A kiss? You call ripping each other's clothes off a kiss?"  


"Molly, no one's clothes were being ripped off. Look at them. They're both fully clothed. Kids, can you make that promise?"

Harry gave a small start. "Yes… yes, sir. Ginny and I won't do anything we're not supposed to. Not here, not anywhere."

Ginny elbowed him in the ribs, not quite able to believe what he'd just promised when just a few minutes earlier… He took her hand and squeezed it hard, as if he knew she was about to blurt out something that would damn them both.

"Okay, then," Ginny's father said. "That settles that. Why don't you go upstairs and see how Ron and Hermione are getting on?"

"I thought they were outside. We didn't see them come through," said Ginny too quickly, before she realised there was perhaps a good reason she hadn't noticed their passing.

"I believe they Apparated upstairs in the face of your mother's wrath," replied her father, his eyes beginning to twinkle.

"Arthur!"

"Come on, Molly. I've got something interesting I'd like to show you in my shed."

Ginny was shocked to see her mother blush. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat for a moment, but she also felt relief that the whole embarrassing row was over with.

Beside her, Harry stood and held out a hand. "Good thing that's over with."

Ginny took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Yeah. I don't want to go though that conversation ever again."

"We'll just have to make sure we never get caught like that again." Ginny nodded her agreement. "And it's probably not such a good idea for us to stay here at the scene of the crime, either."

Ginny couldn't agree more, so they both headed upstairs to see how Ron and Hermione had fared. At the first landing, Harry pulled her aside. "We were interrupted rather abruptly, weren't we?"

"Harry! You just promised dad…"

"I promised I wouldn't do anything I wasn't supposed to. From the sound of things, I don't think he has a problem with a kiss or two. You still owe me, in any case."

"I do, at that."

And so she proceeded to pay off her debt.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Long chapter this week, because there won't be on next week. Something about a movie premiere will be distracting me, I think… Huge thanks once again to Marian, especially for channelling Molly. She's very good at that. And thanks to everyone who reviewed.

Monty Python last chapter: Obviously I needed to fish for the names of Harry's co-workers, and most of them are Python-inspired. Several of the names are taken from the Upperclass Twits of the Year sketch, most notably Gervaise St John, but also Vivian Brooke and Nigel Jones. Deirdre Pewty comes from the Marriage Guidance Counselor sketch. Badon Hill is from Monty Python and the Holy Grail (it's not a character name, it's the name of the battle where Sir Robin wet himself). Delores Mutt is not_ from Monty Python; it's a name I came across a while back and thought it definitely needed to be used._


	8. Chapter 8

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Eight

"Potter!"

Harry looked up from the law books he was ploughing through. In two weeks he'd gone through more of them than he'd expected, but he still seemed to have a lot left to read. In those same two weeks he'd felt he was beginning to adjust to this job, all except for one thorn in his side, and that thorn was now standing over his desk with a roll of parchment.

"What is it?" he replied shortly. He'd given up trying to hide his annoyance with Gervaise St John. Whether he was polite or not didn't seem to make a great deal of difference.

"I need these files. Make it snappy now. I haven't got all day."

Harry took the parchment and looked down the list. He recognised several of the files numbers as those identifying the cases of other solicitors. "Are you sure you have the right ones?"

"Of course, I am!" St John retorted, standing up straighter and raising his chin. "When I did your job, I didn't question my superiors."

"You were probably too stupid to know better," Harry muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I'll get these for you right away."

"Too right, you will."

Harry paused to look at his watch before turning towards the filing cabinets. It was nearly lunch time. Just a few more minutes, and he'd be free for a while. It would come as a welcome relief. When he'd begun this job, the office had been relatively quiet, he now realised. They'd been growing steadily busier as the days passed, and it didn't promise to let up any time soon.

Five minutes later, Harry presented St John with a stack of files. "About time," St John commented nastily. "I can see they hired you based on a famous name. Why didn't you just magic them over?"

Harry had to bite his tongue hard to stop himself from saying what he really thought. He had no doubt that if he said anything really rude, St John would find a way to make him regret it. On top of everything else, the last thing Harry needed was anyone calling attention to the fact that he was the only one in the office who never used any sort of magic.

He shrugged, trying to look casual. "I'm not used to sitting about all day. The exercise does me good."

"Why didn't you just try out for a Quidditch team and have done with it then?"

"Last I heard the league hadn't started up again yet."

"Perhaps the Chudley Cannons would have you." Harry could tell from his derisive tone that he hadn't meant anything complimentary by that.

He didn't have a chance to reply, for he heard the sound of someone coming into the office behind him. He turned to see Ginny standing at the counter, her arms laden with packages. "Excuse me," he said frostily to St John.

"No need," St John replied, smoothing down his robes and licking his lips. "You go on to lunch. I'll take care of her."

"She's here to see me," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, come now, you do have a high opinion of yourself, don't you?"

"She's a bit young for you, don't you think?" Mrs Mutt had risen from her desk, no doubt going down to the canteen for lunch. St John glowered at her, but didn't reply as he sat back down at his desk. Mrs Mutt turned slightly so that her face was out of St John's line of vision. She inclined her head in his direction and mouthed her favourite descriptor at Harry, who grinned at her before turning to greet Ginny at last.

"What was all that?" she asked once she'd kissed him on the cheek.

"Typical day at work," Harry replied darkly.

"Is that the stupid git?" Ginny asked rather loudly. It didn't matter. St John was working obliviously away behind his guard of Silencing Charms and didn't hear her.

Mrs Mutt, however, had. "That's putting it mildly, my dear," she said before nudging Harry. "Is this your girlfriend?"

Harry felt his cheeks begin to heat. "Er, yeah, she is. Mrs Mutt, this is Ginny Weasley."

"Ah, yes, I thought I recognised the hair. You two wouldn't have been in the same year, now, would you?"

"No," Ginny clarified, "Ron's in Harry's year. I'm a year behind."

"Come in for your school things then, have you?"

"Yes, I've got everything I need now."

"Mrs Mutt turned her sharp gaze back to Harry. "Take your time about coming back. If any of us needs anything, we'll manage." There was something in her eyes that told Harry she understood that he and Ginny were short on time.

"What about…" Harry tilted his head in St John's direction.

"Oh, never mind him. He's just hacked off that he bolloxed something up and has to work through his lunch hour. Do him some good if he has a reminder where he came from if you ask me."

When Harry and Ginny had negotiated the labyrinthine passages of the Ministry and found themselves in Diagon Alley, Ginny asked, "Was she my competition then?"

"She asked me to lunch the first day, yes."

"I supposed I'd best face facts and break up with you then. I don't see how I can compete."

Harry made a grab for her but she darted off into the crowds of witches and wizards doing their shopping. She hadn't gone far when he caught her, and he immediately saw why that was. She was weighed down by her purchases. "Here," Harry said. "Let me take some of those."

Her eyes glinted impishly at him, and she handed him the lot before slipping off again. This time as he followed, he noticed that people were turning around to stare at him as he passed. At first he thought it was simply the sight of a young man rushing through the crowd with his arms full of packages, but then he realised what it really was. It was because he was Harry Potter, the person who had apparently defeated the Dark Lord. He quickly slowed to a walk and ducked his head.

Ginny came back through the crowd towards him. "What's the matter?" she asked, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Nothing," he replied.

She didn't pursue the subject, but she didn't seem very convinced of his reply, either. Instead she asked, "Where are you taking me then?"

"Leaky Cauldron all right?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Harry wished he knew of somewhere nicer, but he couldn't ever remember seeing such a place in Diagon Alley. "It's not fancy enough?"

"I don't need fancy, Harry."

And so, like Ron and Hermione the previous year, that's where he took her to lunch. That day had ended in disaster, he remembered ruefully, but a lot had changed in the past twelve months. When they'd been shown to an out of the way table in the dingy pub and, Harry gratefully set Ginny's packages down.

"How many new things have you bought?" He didn't remember needing quite so many supplies as he began his final year.

"That's not all for me. Some of it is things Mum asked me to pick up for her."

"Have you got everything on your list?"

He thought she began to blush slightly. "Everything I need."

Harry knew she was hedging then. "What do you mean, everything you need?"

"Well, I don't really need new dress robes…"

Harry stared at her for a moment, as he tried to remember back to his fourth year. He had a vague recollection of Ginny dancing with Neville and wincing as he trod on her feet. He wished he'd paid more attention to her then, but even so, he was fairly sure the robes she'd worn that year weren't going to fit her anymore. She may not have grown any taller in the intervening years, but he was almost certain she'd filled out.

"What are you going to wear if you need dress robes then?"

"I just won't go…"

"Go? Do you know what you need them for?"

"Hermione may have mentioned there'd be something at the winter solstice. But I don't need to go to that. I'd rather spend the holidays with you, Harry. There's no point in me staying at school for that."

They were interrupted at that point by Tom who had come to take their orders, but once he was gone again, Harry went on. "I told you if there was anything I'd come up to school for it."

"You don't have to."

"Are you trying to throw me over then?"

"I told you I would. You've got Mrs Mutt now."

"All jokes aside, I want to take you. When have we ever had a chance to do anything like this? When have we ever been able to do, well, normal things? Isn't this the sort of thing we're supposed to be doing together?"

"Well, I suppose I could Transfigure something. Or get Hermione to do it for me. She's better at it than I am."

She was looking at him pleadingly, and he knew she was silently begging him not to mention buying something new. He was perfectly aware that if he offered to buy something for her she wouldn't accept it. She was a lot like Ron in that respect. But maybe…

"Why don't we stop by Madam Malkin's on the way back?" he suggested tentatively.

"What for, Harry?" She sounded suspicious, and he knew his instincts had been correct.

"If you see anything you like, it'll give you an idea what to Transfigure your robes into."

He waited for her reply then, certain she'd see right through what he was trying to do. It looked to him as if she was struggling with herself, and suddenly he realised what it was. She wanted something new--she'd never had many things that hadn't belonged to someone else--but she was too proud to tell him so. "I suppose it would be fun to look. I don't know how much fun it will be for you, though."

"I'll just grit my teeth and bear it, I suppose."

Once they'd finished their meal, they strolled back out into Diagon Alley in the general direction of the Ministry, stopping to look in the window of _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. Harry sensed Ginny was still a bit hesitant about going in, so Harry took the initiative and entered the shop himself, leaving her little choice but to follow.

The squat owner of the shop spied them straight away. "Mr Potter!" she exclaimed. "I must say I wasn't expecting to see you in my shop this year. You're surely not here for your Hogwarts robes."

Harry felt himself begin to blush. "Erm, no. Not this year. Actually we wanted to look at dress robes."

Madam Malkin looked at him appraisingly. "Yes, I could see you in dark green. Or red. You were in Gryffindor, weren't you?"

"Well, they're not for me. They're for Ginny."

The shop owner turned her gaze onto Ginny. "Ah, a redhead. You can't wear just anything, my dear. But I believe I've got just the thing."

They followed her to the back of the shop, and Madam Malkin showed the both to the stools which stood there. Harry remembered coming here as an eleven-year-old with Hagrid and standing on one of these very stools while Madam Malkin pinned his hems up to the proper length. Now he took a seat on one of them, while Madam Malkin began considering robes of all sorts of colours and styles. She rejected most of them out of hand as being not quite right for any number of unfathomable reasons.

At last she found three or four styles that passed muster and sent Ginny off with them to the dressing room. After what seemed like a long time to Harry, he thought he heard her calling to Madam Malkin. He couldn't hear what Ginny was saying to her, but he heard the older witch's reply. "Nonsense, they're perfectly respectable."

Harry wondered what this could possibly mean, and he had the impression that Ginny was hesitant about coming out of the dressing room. Madam Malkin confirmed this impression when she added, "Come out and let me be the judge."

When Ginny emerged, blushing to the roots of her hair, Harry immediately saw what had made her hesitate. These were no dress robes like he'd ever seen before, even on the seventh year girls. They were quite a bit tighter for one thing, and they seemed to show a great deal of skin. Harry felt his jaw drop, and he dearly hoped no one would ask him anything because he didn't think he'd be capable of coherent speech.

Something was evidently wrong with these, although Harry had no clue of it until Madam Malkin spoke up. "No, not at all. That colour is completely wrong for you, dear. Let's try again."

Ginny tried on a succession of robes, and Harry was quite glad no one was asking his opinion on the matter, because each set had something wrong with it. Not that he could tell, but Madam Malkin was obviously a party to some inside information that neither he nor Ginny was aware of. Finally there was only one set left, and it seemed to Harry as if Ginny had tried on everything in the shop. He sincerely hoped this last set would be all right. Although Mrs Mutt had told him to take his time, he didn't want to abuse his privilege.

Then Ginny emerged from the dressing room one last time, and Harry's throat went dry. Whatever she was wearing clung to her curves as if she'd been poured into it. The robes were somehow attached about her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, and there didn't seem to be a whole lot covering the front, either. Madam Malkin was asking her to turn around, and Harry found himself having to swallow when he saw the back, or rather the lack of one. All he could see was an expanse of creamy white skin lightly dusted with freckles, and his hands flexed convulsively at the thought of dancing with her in that dress, and feeling nothing but warm softness under his fingers. Something about the deep gold of the fabric made her seem to glow.

"Yes, now that's much better, isn't it?" Madam Malkin exclaimed. "Come have a good look in the mirror and see what you think."

Harry could see Ginny's expression reflected in the mirror when she turned around to look. For a split second he thought he saw happiness, but she quickly hid it, as if she'd just remembered that she couldn't really have this dress. That they'd only come in here to look. In that moment, Harry didn't care if it cost him a year's salary. He knew he was going to buy it for her. "It's… it's lovely, but I really can't…"

"Nonsense, dear, it's perfect for you. What do you think?" the shop owner added, turning to Harry.

Harry somehow found his voice. He was having a difficult time keeping his eyes on her face. "It's the best of the lot."

"But Harry…" Ginny began, and he knew what she was about to protest. It was time to divert her attention.

"Ginny, I really think I need to get back to work now. I'm going to be in trouble."

Ginny took the hint. "Yes, of course. Perhaps we can come back another time?"

Harry had to fight to keep from grinning. She was doing just what he wanted. "Why don't you get dressed then?" As soon as she'd disappeared into the dressing room, Harry signalled to Madam Malkin. "I want you to charge that to me, please," he told her quietly. "As a surprise. And can you hold it for me then?"

"Yes, of course."

"I'll be back in for it in a few weeks. Would that be all right?"

"Certainly."

"I'm going to need some dress robes myself, but I haven't got time for that now. I'll come back and pick up the dress then."

"What about the accessories?"

"Erm, accessories?"

"Of course. She'll need to proper shoes. Proper foundation…"

Harry had no idea what she was on about. "Foundation?" he repeated, stupidly wondering why Madam Malkin wanted to talk about houses all of a sudden.

"Well, obviously she can't wear a bra with that, but that's not a problem. Those sort of robes are always magically enhanced for support," Madam Malkin explained matter-of-factly. Harry felt himself go red for what seemed the thousandth time that day. "The proper underwear is a must, and then of course there's the matching jewellery, the shoes… What size does she wear?"

Harry gulped; he had no earthly idea. Looking at the older witch's feet, he said, "About your size? Perhaps a bit larger?"

"No worries, dear. I have an eye for these things. I'll include something she can charm to the right size."

"Whatever you think…"

It came as a great relief to Harry when Ginny emerged from the dressing room looking very much herself again. She gave Harry a searching look as they left the shop. "Wasn't she put out over spending all that time with me when we didn't buy anything?"

"No, I told her I had to get back to the Ministry, and we'd be back."

"You lied to her."

"Sorry, I couldn't think of anything better. But I really am late. I don't care what Mrs Mutt said, I don't want to deal with the stupid git's comments. Let's go. I've got another stop to make."

"You do?"

"Yes, I need to buy Hedwig a new cage. Perhaps she'll accept that as a peace offering."

*

By the end of August the deluge had begun. Ministry Aurors had managed to track down and capture several cells of remaining Death Eaters, and all that meant extra work for Harry's office. Evidence had to be gathered and cases had to be built. Harry's office was soon buried under a mountain of paperwork, and he found himself working late every evening. He barely returned to the Burrow each night for a quick bite before he collapsed onto Ron's bed, exhausted.

Ron had left for Auror training, and Hermione had moved up to Hogwarts now, so the Burrow was strangely empty. In one more day Ginny would be gone as well, leaving only him, Bill and the elder Weasleys living in the house.

Harry sighed heavily, at the thought of Ginny going back to school. It looked very much as if there would be no hope of him getting to see her for a proper goodbye before she left. There was just too much happening today. They'd had word of a massive raid involving several departments, and it looked very much as if they'd be at it all night.

If he got a chance he'd Portkey back to the Burrow quickly--since he'd been working such odd hours, Mr Weasley had set his small Portkey so that it worked on touch alone, rather than being set for a specific time. Harry had been concerned that whatever he used as a Portkey could be set off by an inadvertent touch, but Mr Weasley had hit on an ideal solution to the problem when he'd discovered an old pocket watch among his collection of Muggle items. He'd charmed it so that if Harry set the hand to midnight, he'd go immediately to the Ministry of Magic's Apparition point; if the hand were set to six o'clock, Harry travelled to the Burrow. Harry had practised setting the hands so he could use the watch without looking, and he'd considered asking Mr Weasley to add another setting for Hogsmeade, but he wasn't too certain how this idea would be received.

As long as Rita Skeeter didn't discover what his true means of transportation was… She hadn't been seen at the Ministry since she'd been escorted out by security on Harry's first day there, but she'd still found means of poking about. Every few days, the _Daily Prophet _had been featuring some nasty piece by her, which never failed to get a few jabs at Harry in. She seemed to delight in speculating on what such a famous wizard was doing in a dead-end job. Not long after the shopping trip, there was even a picture of him and Ginny walking side by side in Diagon Alley, accompanied by an article which was full of insinuations about their relationship. Rita had leaped to the conclusion that they'd spent so much time in Madam Malkin's because they were choosing wedding robes. Harry and Ginny had spent a long time convincing Mrs Weasley that they'd only gone in to look at dress robes, and that Harry had ordered something new for work, although he'd have to wait to pick it up because Madam Malkin was so busy with orders for Hogwarts uniforms.

That day in Diagon Alley was almost like a dream now to Harry. He felt as if he'd barely had time to think since then, he'd been so busy. It was as if Mrs Mutt possessed some skill at Divination and had foreseen what was coming.

Suddenly she was there at his desk holding a stack of new files enormous so enormous she almost disappeared behind them. "These all need to be coded and entered into the system, dear."

"I'll get right on it," he replied half-heartedly.

Mrs Mutt gave him a kindly smile before returning to her desk. Harry looked at the stack and his heart sank. There wasn't going to be a chance for him to nip home and see Ginny at this rate. As much as he hated to do it, he'd have to contact her through the fire to tell her not to wait up, and he ought to do it now, before he delved into the files.

He cast a quick glance around the office. Everyone looked to be very hard at it. They weren't likely to notice if he got up and made a fire call. He made his way over to the small fireplace, which was used exclusively for communication purposed. It was too small to use for travel. Fortunately for him, it was burning full time these days. There had been a lot of calls going in and out of this office lately, although things had been much quieter today.

With another look to make sure no one noticed what he was doing, he reached into the jar of glittering powder that stood permanently on the mantelpiece and tossed a handful into the flames. "Ginny Weasley," he called out as loudly as he dared.

Nothing happened.

Harry wanted to kick himself. How could he have been such an idiot as to think this was going to work for him? Regular Floo powder hadn't worked, so why would the sort used for fire-talking work?

"Having trouble, dear?"

Mrs Mutt had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Harry felt ill. She was going to know something was wrong with him now. He cast about in his mind for a way to explain his predicament, but couldn't come up with anything. His only comfort was the realisation that it wasn't St John who had come upon him.

"I'm sorry, the fire doesn't seem to be working. I'll just get back to work now," he said quickly, trying to cover the moment.

"That's perfectly normal. They've closed the fire to all outgoing calls. Even incoming calls have been restricted to emergencies only. Was it something important?"

Harry let out a long breath, but now he simply felt stupid. Yes, his call had been important to him, but it he didn't think he'd be able to explain things adequately. "No, not really," he said.

"It had to have been somewhat important for you to leave work to make it."

"It's personal. Ginny is leaving for school tomorrow, and…" He wished he didn't have to turn red now.

"And you're not going to see her again for a while. Is that it?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'll just get back to work now. I shouldn't have tried to use the Ministry fire for personal reasons."

To Harry's surprise, Mrs Mutt let out a bark of laughter. "Why not? Everyone else does. As long as you're careful about who you do it in front of and get your work finished on time, not too many people much give damn. Of course, there's always the random arse who likes to rat on people because they think it makes them look important." Harry saw her nod in St John's direction at that. "In any case, why don't you send her an owl? Then you can concentrate on your work better."

"Would it be all right for me to use a Ministry owl for personal reasons?"

"Just don't tell them why you need it. They've got loads over in the Improper Use of Magic Office. I'm sure if you tell them over there that you need it for Department of Magical Law Enforcement business, they won't bat an eye."

Harry went back to his desk, noting as he did so, that Mrs Mutt had disappeared into Hill's office. He pulled out a sheet of parchment and wondered what he could possibly write. He and Ginny had spent so little time together over the past two weeks, and now he had to find a way to say goodbye to her. He didn't want to do it in a letter, though. No, something like this should be done face to face. It would be best to keep this short.

In the end the letter was a bit longer than he'd expected, and it was probably rambly, as well. He didn't dare read back over it because he didn't want to know how stupid it sounded.

He sent the owl off with no problems at all and went back to work. The stack of files wasn't about to magically disappear on him, after all. He'd ploughed his way through several of the files before he was interrupted once again. He looked up to se Badon Hill standing at his desk, and it came as a surprise to him. In the several weeks he'd been working here, he'd barely seen the head of this division at all.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" Harry asked. He was suddenly worried that someone had mentioned to his boss that he'd been using Ministry resources for personal communications.

"Yes, as a matter of fact there is. Take the evening off."

"What?"

"Take the evening off."

"But… why? Everyone else is going to be here all night."

"That's probably the case, but we can manage without you. I don't think any of us are going to need any clerical assistance, and if we do, St John will be here. You'll be much more productive in the morning after you've had a good night's sleep."

"But what about all this?" he asked, indicating the files Mrs Mutt had given him.

"Finish those up and go home." Hill's tone left no opening for Harry to protest.

Harry returned to his work with a renewed vigour. He wanted to get this done as quickly as possible now. He smiled to himself as he thought of how surprised Ginny was going to be when he came home. She wouldn't be expecting him at all…

At last he was able to put the last of the files away and put his desk in order. He was about to walk out the door, when he heard an unwelcome sneer behind him. "Leaving so soon, Potter?"

"Hill said I could take the evening off."

"How nice for you. You get to go home while the rest of us slave away." St John sounded quite petulant.

"You might have the evening off if you'd do your job properly the first time, _dear_." Mrs Mutt had come to Harry's rescue once more, it seemed, and from the way she said "dear" Harry could tell she'd meant anything but. It was satisfying to see the way she made St John cringe. She turned to Harry, and her tone changed entirely, reminding him of Mrs Weasley when she tried to foist third helpings on him at mealtime. "You have a wonderful evening."

"Thank you," replied Harry. He could have sworn she winked at him.

*

Ginny lugged an armful of black robes into the kitchen where she'd set up the ironing board. She'd just put the last load of her school things into the washtub to soak. Once she had that last batch washed and ironed she could finish packing. She'd been at this for most of the day and she was in a hurry to get it done.

"You might have had this finished by now, dear," her mother commented from over by the cooker. She was preparing a huge supper for all of them. Well, for the four of them really. Harry hadn't been home for supper in two weeks, and Ginny had no reason to expect today was going to be any different. And none of them had any real idea whether Bill would be home in time for supper either. He'd left the house that morning before anyone else had got up, and no one knew what any of that was about.

Ginny sighed, spread a robe out over the board, and waved her wand at the iron, which immediately went to work. She knew from her Muggle Studies classes that this way of doing things was a bit less tedious than the Muggle method. She only had to watch to make sure her robes didn't scorch. But it was still one of her least favourite chores.

"Did you dry those properly?" her mother asked.

"Of course," Ginny lied. How did her mother always know?

"Of course you didn't. You never do."

"What does it matter? They finish drying from the heat of the iron. I'm in a hurry."

"If you hadn't left this till the last minute, you wouldn't have to rush."

"I'll get it done, Mum," she grated. "I can't wait to get back to school," she added to herself, but then she froze. That wasn't true at all. It was the last thing she wanted at the moment. "At any rate, I'll have a house-elf when I get older," she told herself to keep her mind off of other things.

If her mother was going to comment further, she was interrupted by a flutter of wings at the window. A strange owl flew in and presented Ginny with a letter. Ginny took it, curious as to what this could be. "At least it's not from the Improper Use of Magic Office," she mused aloud for her mother's benefit. "I've been of age for months now."

She cast a sidelong glance over at her mother and saw the older woman pursing her lips. She thought her mother muttered something about all her babies leaving her, but that thought went out of her head as soon as she opened the letter and saw who it was from. Eyes widening, she began to read.

__

Dear Ginny,

This is going to be short. Things at work today are absolutely crazy. I tried to call you through the fire, but, well, they've shut down the system for emergency calls only. That's not important though. Um… like I said work is crazy, I've got a ton of files on my desk, and I don't know when it's going to let up. I'm so sorry Ginny, I wanted to come home tonight and have a proper goodbye with you, but I don't think that's going to be possible. There was a big… um I don't think I can tell you what there was, but it was big, and I have tons of work. I'll make this up to you, I promise. We can have breakfast together in the morning; we can get up extra early and spend some time together, just the two of us. I'm really sorry. I can't believe this, I've been so busy, and we haven't had any time together. I miss that Ginny, I miss you. If I don't get to see you, but I will, I promise I will, have a good trip. Have a good term and don't work too hard. On second thought, Hermione will be with you, she'll have you working your fingers to the bone. I don't know what I'm saying, why am I talking about Hermione? Ginny…I um…You know? Don't you? I mean… Well I've said it, so you know, but I guess I've never written it down. Write to me, please, every day. Or every week, if you're too busy. But I want to know all about you and what's going on at school. As soon as you can, send me the dates for Hogsmeade weekend, and I'll come up to see you. Even if it's just to have lunch, we don't have to do anything else. I didn't mean that the way it sounded, um… I mean I'll come for lunch, you know what I mean. Ginny I have to go. Take care. I love you.

Harry

Ginny felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, and she had to bite down on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She'd known that the chances of him coming home for supper tonight hadn't been very good, but this letter made it sound as if he didn't think he'd be home at all.

"Honestly, Ginny, how many times do I have to tell you to watch the iron?" Her mother had come over from her place by the cooker. Ginny looked up to see that the iron had stopped its movement and was now standing on end. The air smelled of burnt fabric. She'd let her attention wander and scorched one of her robes. Then her mother looked at her more closely. "What's the matter?"

"Harry's not going to be here for supper tonight, Mum," she said quietly, slipping the letter quickly into her pocket before her mother saw it. Knowing her mother, she'd probably try to crash their breakfast together if she knew about it. Ginny really didn't want to cry in front of her mother, but she couldn't stop herself from sniffling the slightest bit. 

"Is that all? My, aren't you sensitive this month?"

If Ginny had wanted to avoid tears, that had done it. "I am NOT!" she shouted. "It's because I haven't been able to spend any time with Harry lately. He's at work all the time, and when he's not, you're always hovering about. Honestly, you're worse than Mad-Eye Moody with his constant vigilance!"

Her mother looked ready to reply to this, but before she could say anything, there was a sound from the fireplace. Ginny's mother turned, and they could both see that someone was coming through the Floo. Soon a tall, thin man dressed in green robes was stepping out of their grate.

"Kermit!" gasped Ginny's mother. "What a surprise. We weren't expecting any guests." She automatically pointed her wand towards the teakettle to start the water heating.

Ginny recognised the newcomer as Kermit Croaker, an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. "I'm afraid this isn't a social call, Molly," Croaker replied in his nasal voice. "I'm here on official business."

Ginny's mother took a step back and put a hand over her heart. "Oh no! Arthur!"

"Yes, I'm afraid he's been injured. He's at St Mungo's."

__

A/N: Unfortunately I must end this chapter here, because I have a pressing engagement. Thanks to Marian for all her help, and thanks to all who have reviewed so far. Thanks to Cait for the beta, and especially for not taking my typos personally. g


	9. Chapter 9

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Nine

__

A/N: The following chapter contains a rather unfortunate occurrence. I deeply regret having to write it, but unfortunately, that's the way the story goes. If you would rather read a story full of happy events, I refer you to Caitlyn and Marian. 

Ginny's mother sank down into a chair, as if her legs had suddenly become too weak to support her. Her hand was still over her heart. "I thought it was over," she said softly, but as she continued, her voice rose. "It was supposed to be OVER!"

"What happened?" Ginny asked quickly.

Croaker began to tell them about a huge operation, which had been planned to bring in several remaining Death Eater cells. They'd been acting on information given voluntarily by someone who had been very well placed to name names. The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office had had to become involved, but its involvement was only supposed to have been peripheral. Ginny's father had been sent out to Goole to bring in a collection of cursed Muggle items, but the owner had put up more resistance than expected. Reinforcements had been called in but not before Ginny's dad had been injured.

"What's the matter with him?" asked her mother anxiously. "Was he hurt badly?"

"I haven't got details," Croaker replied. "I've only had word that he's in hospital. It may well be something minor, but with all that's been happening today there have been quite a lot of casualties, and the Medi-wizards have to see to the worst of it first."

Ginny's mother had gone white, and Ginny herself wondered if this day could possibly get any worse. Croaker's use of the word "casualties" was rather alarming. Ginny jumped as the teakettle suddenly began to whistle. She'd forgotten that her mother had started it heating before they'd learned the real reason behind Croaker's visit. Mechanically, Ginny moved towards the stove with the intention of measuring out the tea leaves.

"Leave it, Ginny," her mother said sharply. "There's no time for that now. I've got to go to your father."

But before Ginny could even begin to turn back towards her place at the table, there was a _pop_ in the room as Bill appeared. He looked quite dishevelled and he had a bandage around one arm.

"Bill!" her mother exclaimed. "Have you heard?"

"About Dad? Yes. I see you've already heard the news." He sat at the kitchen table and buried his face in his hands. "What a day! I could do with a cuppa."

"Bill, how could you! Your father's in hospital. We need to go to him."

"Calm down, Mum. It's not that bad. They'll patch him up, and he'll be home by tomorrow, I'm certain."

"How can you say it's not that bad if they're keeping him overnight?"

"He's only broken his leg, and they've got more serious cases to see to first. If you went to him now, there'd be nothing to do but wait around and worry."

Ginny, who had been preparing tea for her brother, let out a breath. She brought the teapot over to the table and filled four mugs with the amber liquid.

"_He's broken his leg_?" her mother practically shouted. "Why are we all sitting here drinking tea?"

"It's only a broken leg, Mum," said Ginny calmly. "They'll patch it up soon enough. What's the big deal?"

"Oh, you have no idea…" But then her mother seemed to catch herself, as if she'd said too much. "They seem to have patched you up pretty quickly," she went on, looking sharply at her oldest son's arm. 

"Did it myself. I didn't want to wait around."

Bill casually reached a long arm out to the shelf behind him, took the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky from it and added a healthy measure to his tea. Then he tipped the bottle over his mother's mug, before holding it up in offering to Croaker. The Unspeakable shook his head. "I'm on duty," he muttered.

"There isn't any sense in us all rushing off in a state to see Dad," Bill went on. "It's a madhouse over there at the moment, and we'll just be in the way. It's best if we take our time and calm down before we all descend on him."

Croaker gulped down his tea. "I'm off if I'm no longer needed. I'll just be getting back to work."

He had soon disappeared in a roar of emerald flames, and Bill made his mother sit and drink a second cup of tea spiked with Firewhisky before he'd let her even think of getting up from the table. Then another argument ensued when Ginny wanted to go to St Mungo's with the others.

"Out of the question, Ginny," her mother said. "You have to finish packing your things. And someone has to be here to keep an eye on supper."

"Who's going to be here to eat it?" Ginny asked in protest. "You're all going to be at St. Mungo's, and Harry isn't going to be home."

"We don't know when anyone is going to be back, Ginny, and you have to eat."

Ginny grudgingly gave in, although she knew right away she wasn't going to feel like eating anything. With nothing better to do, she finished up her washing and ironing, taking secret delight in cutting a few corners. She knew it was childish of her, but she needed to think about something, anything other than what was really going on around her.

She had just finished packing her trunk, laying Harry's Firebolt in last of all, when she heard a noise from downstairs. Going down to investigate, she found Bill had come home to give her an update on their father's condition.

"It's a bit worse than they thought. Leg's broken in more than one place, apparently. He's going to be fine, though. They've given him something for the pain, so he's happy, but they weren't going to be able to mend his bones until tomorrow. They've got a splint on it in the mean time."

"So everything's going to be all right," Ginny replied.

"Yeah. Mum is going to stay with him for a bit, though. He's all right, but she's pretty shaken up. I think she had some sort of nasty reminder this afternoon."

"What do you mean, reminder?"

Bill thought for a moment. "It's hard to explain. I barely remember it, but I think she's been through something like this before, only worse. You know, during the first war."

Ginny nodded, remembering her mother's extreme reaction earlier, although she didn't really understand. It was a subject that had never been brought up before, but she had the distinct impression that Bill knew more about it than he let on. He just didn't want to talk about it.

"Listen," Bill went on, changing the subject, "if you're going to be all right, I'm going to go back to St Mungo's to see what Mum is up to. If I don't watch her, she'll have taken over the place, and be telling the matrons how to do their job."

"Oh, won't they love that! She's had plenty of practice at it today."

The corners of Bill's mouth twitched. "I'm going to close the fireplace so no one can come through. We'll Apparate home, all right?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"I think so, yes. Now don't argue with me over this."

"Bill, I'll be fine."

"I know you will because I'm closing off the Floo. I'll see you later."

His tone brooked no argument, and Ginny suddenly didn't have the energy to protest. What did it matter? Either way she'd be spending her last evening at home alone. With the Floo closed off and the wards that had been put in place, no one but family members and certain designated family friends, such as Hermione, could approach the Burrow unless he came on foot or by broom. And who would bother?

She wandered into the kitchen now, wondering what to do. She had finished her packing, and although it was time for supper, she wasn't hungry at all. She lifted the lids of a few of the pots her mother had left warming on the stove, but even the aroma of her favourite foods didn't entice her.

She was about to go back upstairs and find something to occupy herself when a messy-haired figured suddenly appeared in front of her. She took a step back in her surprise before launching herself into his arms.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

"They sent me home." He'd pulled her tightly against him and laid his cheek on the top of her head.

"But your owl said…"

"I know, but my boss said I could come home."

"Thank God." She drew back, intending to kiss him.

"Isn't your mother going to walk in on us?"

"She isn't here."

Ginny took advantage of the house being entirely empty for a few minutes. When she pulled back, Harry said, "Wow… Where is everyone?"

"St Mungo's."

"What?"

"I reckon I know what you were referring to in that owl today. Dad was involved in a raid and got into some trouble. Bill was just here and said he's going to be fine, but Mum had kittens."

"What happened to him?"

"Broken leg. He should be home tomorrow."

"They're keeping him with a broken leg? Are you sure he's all right?"

"There were a lot of other patients, apparently. They couldn't fix his leg straight away. They've made him comfortable and will see to him in the morning."

"And they've left you here alone."

"I wasn't finished packing. Listen, Mum left supper on the cooker. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I could do with a bite."

"Why don't you go upstairs and change, and I'll get us some supper then."

Ginny didn't bother to clean up the kitchen directly after their meal. Her time with Harry was almost at an end now, and she didn't want to waste it on mundane chores. Harry seemed to be just as aware as she that this would be their last evening together for a long time, and once they were both seated on the sofa, the Wizarding Wireless Network playing softly in the background, he put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. She laid her head on his shoulder, and they sat there for a long time not moving and not speaking.

"I'm going to miss you," Harry told her, breaking the silence at last. "I don't know how I'll survive until December."

"Hush, Harry. I don't want to think about it." She had to swallow hard in order to compose herself. She'd been pushing thoughts like this out of her head all day. As much as she'd been worried about her father, the distraction had been welcome in a way, although in the end, one worrisome thought had simply driven out another. "We're just going to have to do our best to keep ourselves occupied…"

She trailed off, unable to go on without starting to cry. Harry must have understood. He hugged her even closer before tipping her chin up so that she could meet his gaze. His own eyes seemed a bit bright. "I'll be here when you get back."

"I don't want to go." She couldn't stop the tear that escaped this time.

Harry pulled her fully into his arms, and she felt him kiss the top of her head. "I don't want you to."

Then he buried his face against the side of her neck and held her for a while longer. Some unspoken communion between them caused them to pull apart just far enough for Harry to fit his lips against hers. This was going to have to last them for almost four months, and both of them knew it. She returned the kiss briefly, before reaching up to take off his glasses. She'd realised as soon as they started that neither one of them was going to rein in his passion for very long. Then she tangled her hands in his hair and pressed as closely to him as she could, while his arms tightened around her waist until they were nearly crushing her.

Instinctively she knew where this was going to lead, but she also knew she was going to have to say something soon. But she didn't want to stop him either. It felt as if her entire body was awake in a way it had only been a few times in the past. His lips had left hers and were hungrily exploring her neck now, while his arms loosened their grip and his hands began to move gently across her back.

She tilted her head back to grant him freer access. Just a few inches more and he'd be at a spot that she knew would send an electric jolt through her. Right… there. She shivered in his arms, gripping his head more tightly to keep him there. At the same time she felt his hands begin to skim along her sides.

She waited, hoping this would continue indefinitely, but it did not. Instead he raised his head to look at her. His hair was wild from her hands running through it, his eyes burned with green fire, and his breathing was ragged. She knew what he was about to ask of her, and in the next moment, as soon as he'd caught his breath, his words proved her right.

"Ginny, I want… Can we…"

She thought her heart was going break. "No, we can't."

"I know what I promised your father, Ginny. I promised we wouldn't do anything we shouldn't. But we wouldn't be doing anything wrong. I love you. You love me. It isn't wrong."

"I know, Harry, but we still can't."

"Why?" His tone was beginning to take on a desperate edge.

"Because it isn't the right time."

"Not the right time? How could it not be the right time? We have the house to ourselves. We don't know when we're going to see each other again…"

"I know, but it's not the right time." She looked at him pleadingly, while she felt the blush rising in her cheeks, begging him to understand so she wouldn't have to spell it out for him. And all the while she cursed to herself about the unfairness of it all. Of all the times it had to happen, it had to be now. If not for that, she would have given herself to him as she'd been longing to do ever since her birthday.

He stared back at her for a few minutes, and Ginny was beginning to suspect the was going to have to get on with it and tell him. But then she saw his eyes widen as realisation dawned over his features, and he went redder than she was. "Oh…" he said, moving away from her a bit. "Oh… I, uh, I understand."

He dropped his hands into his lap and looked at them. "Harry," Ginny said at last, "just because we can't make love, doesn't mean we have to stop altogether."

He looked back up at her, his expression a mixture of longing and guardedness. "Ginny…"

"What's wrong?"

Harry sighed. "You're going to kill me, you know that? I want you so much. You don't know how much."

"Yes, I do. You don't think I want you just as badly?"

"What am I going to do without you?"

"You'll manage. We both will because we have to. And at the end of next June…"

"That's forever!"

"I know, but I'll be free then. Can you wait that long? Because that's the longest it can be. Who knows? Maybe we'll see each other before then. Christmas… Anything can happen."

"I wasn't just talking about sex, Ginny."

"Neither was I." She reached for him then, taking his face between her hands and pulling him closer. "I love you, Harry. That's all that matters."

She leaned in and kissed him, allowing all the depth of her feeling to pour into that one gesture as if she could brand an impression on his lips forever. When they came up for air, she'd pushed him backwards so that he's almost slumped sideways onto the sofa. She turned her attention to his neck then, pushing him further down until she was lying on top of him, and his arms tightened convulsively around her. She found his lips once more and felt his hands slide from her waist to her hips, his fingers biting into her softness as he held her closer. At the same time he made a growling sort of sound in his throat, one which caused a shiver of triumph to pass through her.

She shifted against him, and he responded by attempting to flip them both over, but the sofa was too narrow. Ginny felt herself falling and she clutched desperately at Harry with one hand, while with the other she tried to grasp the sofa. The only thing she succeeded in doing was pulling Harry down to the floor as well, while a slightly shabby blanket, which normally lay across the back of the sofa, slithered down onto them.

She began to laugh, and Harry joined her for a moment before leaning over her once more and pulling her into yet another kiss. When he broke away from her, he'd rolled completely over her, bringing the old blanket with him so that the two were covered with it, forming a sort of cocoon.

They continued for a while in the darkness until both of them had lost all awareness of anything but each other. This probably explained why neither of them heard the telltale popping sound of someone Apparating into the room. There was no mistaking the voice however.

"What do you make of that, George?"

Ginny's heart had been racing out of control already. Now it seemed likely to hammer its way out of her chest as she and Harry froze in panic. She thought she heard Harry swear under his breath.

"I dunno, Fred, but it looks to me as if there's more than one person under there." The glee in her brother's tone was unmistakable.

"That it does, George."

"But Ginny is supposed to be here by herself, isn't she, Fred?"

Ginny felt like swearing herself. She felt Harry shift ever so slowly to one side. There wasn't much sense in pretending they weren't there now, but to have to blanket fall off of them now would be disastrous. She was going to have to right her clothing as best she could.

"Who do you think she's under there with?" asked George.

"Can't be Harry. Mum said he'd be working late. George, you don't think she's cheating on him, do you?"

"Horrible suggestion, but it can't be anything else, can it?"

"So who could it be?"

"Malfoy?"

"Longbottom?"

"Creevey?"

"The bloke with two names… Finch-Fletchley?"

"Nah, he's a poof."

"Right."

"Whoever it is, I say we give him one minute to show himself before we hex him."

"That's an excellent suggestion. It a matter of our dear sister's honour, after all."

Harry must have thought it prudent to show himself at this point, for he pushed the blanket aside and raised his head. Ginny was still fumbling with her buttons, shock at being discovered like this making the task much more difficult than it should have been, but fortunately Harry had moved to the side that blocked the twins' view of her. Harry's hair was in even more wild disarray than usual, and his expression was an odd combination of fear and anger.

"Harry, mate!" exclaimed George. "We heard you were working late."

"Nice way to take advantage of an empty house," added Fred.

"Now that poses us a small problem. Just what were you doing under there?"

Harry couldn't reply. He was busy fumbling about for his glasses.

"You know, George, it seems to me that Harry promised Mum and Dad that he wouldn't do anything he wasn't supposed to. Now I don't know much, but I'm pretty sure you and our sister shouldn't be doing anything under a blanket on the floor. What do you reckon George?"

Ginny finally got the last button done up and scrambled to her feet. "Okay, listen you two. I don't know what you're doing here, but you can just get out."

"Sorry, can't do that," said Fred.

"Get out now, or I'll make you sorry."

George, instead of trembling with fear in the face of Ginny's anger, was looking at her strangely. He tilted his head to one side for a moment, before remarking, "You know, you'd be a lot more forceful if your buttons were done up properly."

"Is this a new style or something?" asked Fred. "Leave two buttons on top and then skip a few?"

Ginny felt her face flame scarlet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry had turned almost purple.

"Hey, Harry," said George, grinning evilly, "if you need any buttons done up, I wouldn't ask Ginny to help you. She doesn't seem to have got the hang of it yet."

"GET OUT!" Ginny screamed at her brothers.

"We'll be leaving, won't we, George?"

"Yeah, I think our work here is done."

"You might want to make it look a bit more innocent, though. We came over to tell you to open the Floo. Mum came over from St Mungo's to see us, but she's ready to come home, and she's in no condition to Apparate."

"Yeah. Too much Firewhisky in her tea. She's a bit… unsteady."

"But I think she'd sober up pretty quickly if she saw the two of you in this condition."

Ginny's heart began racing again. As embarrassing as it was to be caught by the twins, it was far preferable to having her mother walk in on her and Harry. Even though her mother had been behaving a bit less like Mad-Eye Moody these days, the thought of her reaction to what had just been transpiring was frightening. She could deal with the twins later. For now, she was going to have to make it look as if Harry had just come home, and that meant cleaning up all traces of their supper together. Without another word, she raced into the kitchen.

The twins hadn't finished with Harry, however. Their voices drifted in from the living room. "So, Harry, how'd the two of you wind up on the floor?"

"I would think the sofa would be much more comfortable."

"Not to mention you had the whole house to yourself. Surely you could have found a bed…"

"I think Dad's going to have to add some new spaces to the clock if this keeps up."

"Soused…"

"_In flagrante delicto_…"

Ginny stuck her head back into the living room. "I thought you were leaving. If you're going to stay, make yourselves useful for once. On second thought, do me a favour. Open the Floo and get out." She held her wand up for good measure when the twins didn't jump to do her bidding right away.

"Harry, get upstairs. I'll tell Mum you just got home."

She heard the twins snigger when she said this. "Yeah, Mum's really going to buy that one, Gin."

"MOVE!"

Her brothers evidently knew they'd pushed her too far now. Fred turned towards the fireplace and opened it, before they both waved cheerily. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do," said George before the two Disapparated.

"That leaves us with a lot of choices, doesn't it?" commented Harry when they'd gone.

"Unfortunately there's no time now, is there?"

"Do you want any help?"

"No, I can do the washing up."

"I meant with your buttons…" he said, smirking.

Ginny had completely forgotten, but she scowled at Harry and threw the dishtowel at him, hitting him in the face with it. "You have to get upstairs before Mum gets back. I'll finish in here. And fix my buttons. When you hear her come in, we'll make it look good."

Ginny made swift work of the washing up and had the kitchen looking in its usual spotless order when she heard a noise coming from the fireplace. "Steady there, Mum," came Bill's voice from behind her.

"I'm fine, Bill," Ginny's mother tried to snap, but her words were slurred just enough to make it sound unconvincing. She jerked her arm from he son's hand and lurched toward the kitchen table.

Ginny put the kettle on, while her mother began rambling on about her father's condition. When the water boiled, there was a bit of a scene when her mother wanted another shot of Ogden's in her cup, and Bill had to hide the bottle.

In the middle of all this, Harry put in an appearance. Ginny's mother looked up immediately. "Harry, dear, when did you get home?"

"Just before you did, Mum," Ginny replied quickly.

Ginny's mother got out of her seat. "You can't have eaten; you must be peckish. They're working you far to hard, dear. You sit and let me get you something to eat."

"It's all right, Mrs Weasley, I'm really not hungry," replied Harry.

"It won't be a bother, dear." She began to walk none too steadily towards the cooker.

Harry watched her, alarmed. "Really, Mrs Weasley…"

"Come on, Mum." Bill was standing up and putting a hand on his mother's arm. "Let's get you to bed."

"But Harry…"

"I'll get him something, Mum," said Ginny to get rid of her mother as much as anything. "You go to bed. We'll be along soon."

Ginny's mother looked doubtful. "Well all right then. Don't stay up too late. You have to be off early tomorrow."

"Good night, Mum."

Ginny let out a long sigh of relief when her mother and brother disappeared upstairs. "We won't be able to stay down here too long," she said to Harry.

"I'll go up to bed now. I won't be making any trouble for you that way." He leaned close to her and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you later."

It was only after he'd disappeared up the steps that she realised that he'd said later and not tomorrow.

*

Harry lay awake in Ron's room waiting until the house had gone completely quiet. He wasn't worried about Ginny's mother waking up. From the looks of things, she ought to be quite sound asleep and likely to remain that way until morning. He had no idea if Bill was a light sleeper, or even what Ginny's brother might say if he were to catch Harry, but after the run-in with the twins, he decided not to take any chances. It was after midnight when he threw back his blankets, slipped the invisibility cloak on over his pyjama bottoms and slipped silently down the steps to Ginny's room.

He opened the door soundlessly and found her asleep, her hair fanned out on her pillow. He padded over next to her bed and watched her sleep for a few moments, wondering as he did so how he could have gone for so many years and not _seen_ her.

He hated to wake her up but he had to. He couldn't risk startling her out of her sleep and having her cry out, waking everybody. He slid out of the invisibility cloak and gently grasped her shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "Ginny," he whispered.

She stirred and her eyes fluttered open. "Harry," she said after a moment of disorientation. "What are you doing here?"

"It's the last night before you leave. I want to spend it with you. Sleeping, I mean. I know we can't…"

"But if Mum comes in and catches you…"

"We'll just make certain we wake up early, and I've got my cloak. Please, Gin, just let me hold you."

She slid over on the mattress to make room for him, but once he'd climbed in with her, he had to struggle to hold onto his good intentions. His mind insisted on reminding him that just a few hours previous they'd been lying on the living room floor together, exploring…

That had ended in disaster, he reminded himself. Concentrating on the twins' interruption was a much safer prospect than dwelling on what had preceded. The intensity of his need for her had come as a shock. When they finally did make love, he wondered if he was going to survive the experience. A tingle of desire passed through him. Twins. He had to think of the twins' leering faces.

Ginny's head was resting against his bare shoulder, strands of her long hair tickling as she stirred. She put an arm around his waist and snuggled closer. "G'night, Harry." She was already drifting back off.

He kissed the top of her head. "Night, Gin."

Harry awoke in the grey dawn to find Ginny still asleep in his arms. Someday they would be able to share a bed without having to worry about Ginny's mother coming in and screeching at them. Someday. But that day was not today. They had the entire school year ahead to get through before they could even begin to consider the possibility of sharing the rest of their lives.

He wondered about kissing her awake and decided it wasn't such a good idea. It would be too easy to lose himself. "Gin… Gin, wake up," he whispered into her ear.

He heard a groan and felt her stretch against him. "Go 'way. I'm tired," she murmured.

"I know, but we have to do this now, while we still have some privacy."

Her eyes opened and she stared back at him gravely. "It's time, isn't it?"

Harry swallowed hard and nodded. He was afraid that if he spoke now his voice would break.

"Oh, Harry…" She snuggled closer to him. "I don't want to go. You know that, don't you?"

He somehow found his voice. "Yes… yes, I know. And I know you have to even if I don't want you to."

"I wish you didn't have to work so you could come to King's Cross with me."

"I suppose it would draw things out a bit more, but do you really want to say goodbye in front of everyone? If any reporters thought I'd turn up…"

"You're right… I'll write to you."

"I want to know everything, even the stupid, little things. Especially them. I want to feel as if I'm there with you."

"I'm going to miss you, Harry. Terribly." Tears were starting to slip out of the corners of her eyes.

"Gin, don't cry."

"I can't help it. I don't want to leave you."

"Gin, I love you, and I'm going to be here when you come back. I'm always going to be here for you."

She was crying harder now, and Harry was finding it more and more difficult not to follow suit. Already his voice was hoarse with the effort he was making to hold his emotions in check. He finally had to give into them, and they both clung to each other for a while, crying quietly.

A noise out on the landing caused them to break apart suddenly. Heart pounding, Harry stared into Ginny's red-rimmed eyes for a moment. He was going to have to act quickly or they'd be discovered. He kissed her quickly and hard on the lips before snatching up the invisibility cloak and slipping underneath it. Just in time. Mrs Weasley was knocking at the door. "Ginny, time to get up."

"I'll be along in a minute, Mum," she called back.

Mrs Weasley must have heard the catch in her voice. "Is everything all right, dear?"

Ginny looked at the spot where she'd seen Harry disappear, a look of panic taking over her features. "Of course it is. I'll be downstairs soon."

Too late. Mrs Weasley opened the door. "Ginny, you've been crying."

Harry saw Ginny swipe at her eyes impatiently. "I'll be all right," she said in a small voice, and Harry could tell she was trying to put a brave face on things for her mother.

"It's Harry, isn't it?"

"What else would it be?"

Mr Weasley crossed the room and took Ginny into a motherly hug. "You haven't chosen an easy road for yourself, have you?" Harry heard Mrs Weasley say softly to her daughter.

"It's not a choice, Mum. It's not as if I can chose to stop feeling this way."

Ginny's mother stepped back, placing her hands on her daughter's shoulders and looking her in the eye. She sighed. "Yes, I think I know that, but Ginny, this is only ten months out of your life. The both of you have your whole lives ahead of you. If you take this separation one day at a time, you'll get through it. You will. And then you'll be ready to start your life together."

Harry was shocked to hear her say that. He'd only begun thinking in those terms himself recently. And from the way she'd been watching them so closely… It hadn't been because she didn't approve of the relationship, he now realised. It had been for other reasons. Mrs Weasley wanted her daughter to be happy; she wanted _him_ to be happy--she'd said in the past that he was like one of her own… In spite of his sadness at having to say goodbye to Ginny, there was something warm and comforting about that thought.

"I know, Mum. I keep telling myself I'll manage somehow. But the telling is one thing. The doing is another."

"One day at a time." She paused and then changed the subject slightly. "We need to make sure Harry gets up in time to say goodbye to you properly," Mrs Weasley was going on. "I'll see about waking him, shall I?"

Harry watched Ginny's eyes go round for a split second before she mastered herself. Harry's own heart began to beat out of control. "Yes, Mum," Ginny replied in a slightly strained voice. "Why don't you do that?"

Harry couldn't believe it, but there was nothing he could do to attract Ginny's attention without her mother discovering he'd been there all along. As soon as Mrs Weasley left the room, and her footfalls were heard climbing the stairs to Ron's room, Ginny looked straight at the spot where Harry was still standing, and hissed, "Bathroom. Now."

"But I haven't said goodbye."

"There's no time for that now. If Mum finds you…"

He cut her off as he slipped off his invisibility cloak for a swift kiss. "I've said everything else, but this. Have a good term. I love you. I'll write to you."

"Harry, I'm going to see you at breakfast…"

"I know, but I'm not going to say all that in front of your mother."

"Just go before she gets back down here!"

*

Several hours later, Ginny found herself in the prefects' compartment on the Hogwarts Express. The other students were all chattering away happily about the events of the summer, while she sat in a corner feeling very much separate from it all. She and Harry hadn't had a chance at any more time alone together that morning, and so they really hadn't had what she considered a proper goodbye. Sitting here now as the train rattled along the tracks, Ginny could think of a hundred things she'd have told him if she'd got the chance. She opened her trunk and took out a roll of parchment. She may not have had an opportunity to say anything, but she could write it down. 

She only set down her quill when the train arrived in Hogsmeade.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Many thanks go to Caitlyn and Marian for their suggestions for this chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed.


	10. Chapter 10

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Ten

The beginning of term was busier than Ginny had expected it to be. There were prefects' meetings to attend, and general settling in. Minerva McGonagall had been promoted to the position of headmistress, and things were not being done in quite the same way as they had been during Dumbledore's tenure. On top of that, Ginny hadn't bargained on having quite as much homework to do in the early weeks of term. As a result, she didn't have a chance to meet with Hermione until the end of the first week of September.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she said as she rushed into the nearly empty library after her last class on Friday. "I meant to be in sooner. I just haven't had any time so far."

Hermione looked up from her desk, her face going pink as she quickly hid the piece of parchment she was reading. Ginny thought she'd caught a glimpse of Ron's writing. "It's all right, Ginny," she replied too quickly. "I understand. I've been quite busy myself. It's one thing learning how to run the library with Madam Pince about to help me if I get into trouble. It's quite another to do it all on my own. Although I think I've found a less confusing way to catalogue things… But you won't be interested in that."

Ginny gave Hermione a weak sort of smile. "I've got a chance to help now, since I don't have that much homework over the weekend at least. And what I've got I can put off. Where do you want me to start?"

For a moment, Hermione looked as if she might want to tell Ginny off for putting this project ahead of her schoolwork, but to Ginny's relief, she merely said, "I wish I knew…"

"Haven't you been looking?"

"Yes, but I haven't found anything useful yet. It's not as if this is an everyday occurrence. There's just nothing written on the subject. It's going to be a lot of paging through books looking for any sort of mention…"

"Just like last spring," Ginny mused, her heart sinking. There had been four of them looking for that spell at the time, and it had still taken them over six weeks to find it. And the number of books they'd had to look through had been limited. Looking about the library now, with its shelves cramped with volumes, it seemed as if they could look for years and not find anything. Heaving a sigh, she added, "Just tell me what I can do to help."

Hermione was looking piercingly at Ginny. "You know what might be best?" she began. "If you took that book we found the spell in and translated it. Maybe there was some sort of provision in there. It foresaw the defeat of Voldemort, after all. Perhaps it has the means to restore Harry's powers to him. I'll be right back."

Ginny's heart leapt at the thought of having something concrete to do, as Hermione disappeared into the stacks. It wouldn't be easy, but the idea was more appealing to her than paging through random books on the off chance of finding something. "Do you think there might be something in there?" Ginny asked when Hermione reappeared with a mouldy-looking tome bound in cracking brown leather.

"I honestly don't know, but it's as good a place to look as any. You ought to be the one to work on it. You'd be faster at it than I am. You wouldn't have to sit round here while you worked at it, either. You could take it with you and work at it whenever you have a moment to spare."

A look of quiet complicity passed between the girls. Hermione was in the same predicament as Ginny at the moment. She, too, was trying to fill every spare moment in order to make time pass more quickly, because every second that passed was one less second between now and the time she'd see Ron again.

"How is Harry, really?" asked Hermione after a moment.

"He's adjusting, I think… I hope. Sometimes I wonder if he isn't putting on a good show for us all. I wish he could have another job. I don't think the one he has is really suited to him, but then nothing would be, would it?"

"No, that's just it. He ought to be playing professional Quidditch or something."

"He told me… He told me flying was what he was going to miss the most. It isn't fair, Hermione. He shouldn't have had to give that up. The wizarding world hasn't even recognised what he's done."

"I think they're just being cautious this time. From everything I've read, they had a huge celebration that time Harry was a baby and they believed Voldemort was gone for good. It turned out not to be true. I think they want to make extra certain this time before they declare a wizarding holiday."

"And even at that they won't know the extent of it."

"He wants it to be that way. You know that. And with any sort of luck it'll only be temporary."

"I suppose so," Ginny replied, but deep down, she didn't feel very confident about finding a way to restore Harry's powers to him. With a sigh, she chose a seat at a nearby table, took out a quill and some parchment, opened the ancient book and painstakingly began to translate.

She'd been at it a while when a group of girls came into the library. Ginny looked up, irritated. Who was so keen that she'd come into the library on the first Friday of term? One look gave her even more cause to be annoyed. It was a group of Slytherin girls, led by Diana Bloodworth, which included Pansy Parkinson's younger sister, Zinnia. 

Diana nodded to Ginny and smirked. She'd been taking great pleasure in reminding Ginny of Rita Skeeter's recent article, which had speculated on Harry and Ginny's impending wedding. Ginny looked pointedly away.

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione, coming over once the Slytherin girls had checked out the books they wanted and left.

"Nothing," said Ginny obstinately.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You're certain you don't have anything better to do?"

"Of course. You don't think I've taken to going round with the Slytherins, do you? Listen, I just want to focus on helping Harry. I haven't got time for their schoolgirl gossip."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something. Ginny could practically hear her saying, "Ignore them," as she'd said to Harry and Ron so many times in the past. Ginny was extremely thankful when Hermione went back to the book she'd been paging through without further comment.

*

The following morning Ginny bolted her breakfast, intending to get back to her translation as quickly as possible. It was rather dull work, as she could find nothing in the text she was working on that seemed as if it would have any sort of impact on Harry. But there was nothing for it other than to press on and hope she'd come across something useful. 

Her only consolation was that Hermione wasn't having any better luck. She'd invited Ginny to come up to her rooms in the staff wing after breakfast so that they could both work uninterrupted, and Ginny was in a hurry to get started.

But as she was finishing up, an interruption came in the form of a large number of owls flying in with the morning post. Ginny looked up in spite of herself, her heart giving a hopeful leap, but there was no flash of white amid the greys and browns, although she caught sight of Pigwidgeon fluttering excitedly towards the staff table. She looked back into her empty plate, disappointed and trying very hard not to be jealous of Hermione, telling herself Harry was very busy at work and didn't have time to write letters. She didn't expect to see a small, grey lump of feathers plunk down in front of her and promptly pass out in the remains of her breakfast.

Ginny felt of brief resurgence of hope as the thought crossed her mind that maybe Hedwig was still put out enough with Harry to have refused to deliver his message, and so he'd sent Errol to her instead, but she knew she was only fooling herself. Hedwig had been happy enough with her new cage to move into it when Harry presented her with it, and while she may not have completely forgiven Harry, she wasn't angry enough to refuse to deliver his mail. She took too much pride in her work for that.

As Ginny untied the letter from the unconscious owl's leg, she recognised her mother's writing. It could have been worse, she told herself. It could have been the twins sending her another advert for Lady Marmalade's Amazing, All-in-One Aphrodisiac and Contraceptive Potion (guaranteed seventy-nine percent effective). Fighting back her disappointment, she unfolded the alarmingly thick parchment and began to read.

__

Dear Ginny,

I've been looking at a blank sheet of parchment for days, it seems, wondering where to begin. I suppose it ought to be with an apology. I feel I need to apologise to you for not letting you have more time alone with Harry this summer. Recent events have reminded me of a time when I first learned how precious time together can be. I'm not talking about the physical side of things here, but the little things like holding hands and quiet walks. By hovering over the two of you this summer, I denied you a chance at that side of things.

"Wonderful," Ginny thought to herself. "Why did she have to wait until I was back at school before she came to that conclusion?" But then, as she read on, she began to understand a bit better.

__

I wouldn't be completely honest if I didn't admit that your father had to remind me of what my own youth was like. He also pointed out that you and I are not the same -- you sent Valentines and get well cards, while I brewed love potions.

Ginny felt herself begin to blush. As much as she tried to deny it to everyone, she had _not_ sent that Valentine to Harry in her first year. She had no idea who had, but she strongly suspected it had been the twins. It was just like them to pull off a trick like that. As for the singing get well card, she couldn't deny sending that--she'd delivered it directly to Harry in the hospital wing, after all--but she'd been talked into it by a well-meaning girl in her year. If she'd known it would become an event she'd never live down, she would never have done it.

__

I can imagine what you're thinking of your mother at the moment, but you can see that I do remember what it's like to be young and in love. I'd be a hypocrite if I said your father and I never tried anything before we were married, but we didn't try everything_. We waited for that, because we had good reason._

Ginny wished she could shrivel up and die on the spot. She did _not_ want to think of her parents doing _anything_ along those lines. And as she continued reading in spite of herself, it only got worse. Her mother launched into a story about her Uncle Bilius having to leave school before his seventh year because her Aunt Lucretia was expecting a child. Her mother went to great lengths to describe how miserable their existence had been; how they'd had to work their fingers to the bone to make ends meet; how neither of them had been able to get a proper job, since neither had finished school; how Aunt Lucretia's family had turned their daughter out in shame. How, in the end, the baby had come too early because Aunt Lucretia has been too young to handle the stress. How they couldn't send for the midwife because they'd had no money to pay her. How the baby wouldn't likely have survived in any case…

Ginny wanted to stop reading, but it was as if something was forcing her to keep slogging through this tale of woe. When she'd finished, she thought to herself that she could have gone on very well without knowing all that. The only bright spot that she could see in the entire saga was the line where her mother admitted to wanting to kill her father for insisting they name their first born after Uncle Bilius, who had seen the Grim the year Ginny's mother had been expecting Bill.

__

The point I'm trying to make in all this is that any opportunities they might have had were all shot in one moment of passion. I imagine you're thinking now that your father and I both finished school, and we're still poor, but the reasons for that are different. I know you're old enough to hear those reasons now, and one day I shall discuss them with you. I just don't feel ready to do so yet. The memories came crashing in on me the day your father was hurt. One day we will tell you why things are a certain way in our family, but this sort of thing ought to be told face to face, and not in a letter.

I know you and Harry love each other, but I want you to be responsible and wait until you're finished school. I will promise you this, however. When you come home for Christmas, I will promise to give you and Harry time together. That doesn't mean that Harry will be spending time in your room under his invisibility cloak…

Ginny's heart began to pound out of control. How had her mother found out about that? Ginny had never known about Harry's cloak until last year, when he'd shown it to her. How had her mother been able to piece that together?

__

I may not be the most clever person in the world, but I do know that the bathroom was empty when I came up to your room to wake you up, and that no one came down the stairs while I was in your room. Yet somehow Harry managed to make it down to the bathroom while I was up in Ron's room looking for him.

I don't want you to think I'm uncaring, but I also want you to use your head. Most of all I want you to finish school. You are possessed of some very rare talents. You have an opportunity to do a great many things in your life. It would be sad to see that potential wasted.

"Oh, did Weasley get a love letter? It's got to be a good one judging from the way you're blushing."

Ginny looked up, reddening further in spite of herself. She'd been too absorbed in this… this… she wasn't even sure what to think of this letter from her mother. It was like a monstrosity, really, and she'd been too caught up in it to notice what was going on around her. She saw that Diana Bloodworth had come over from the Slytherin table, followed by her usual cronies, who gathered round.

"Come on, what's it say?" she taunted. "I could use a good laugh." Diana tried to grab the parchment out of Ginny's hand, but Ginny was too fast for her. "What's the matter? Is it too hot to share? Or just too syrupy?" 

"I think she's wishing one of the other members of the famous Gryffindor trio had taken a job here this year," came another comment, the sneer evident in the tone. "Too bad we're stuck with the Mudblood."

The general buzz of conversation at the Gryffindor table died away, and silence fell as the Gryffindors all turned to stare at Zinnia Parkinson, who had spoken. Over and above the fact that Mudblood was considered nearly obscene, everyone knew whom the Slytherin had been referring to. Ginny remained silent, as did the others, however. It didn't matter to Ginny at the moment, as she had two bigger fish to fry first, but she wouldn't forget this. No one had to say anything in reply, really, for the Gryffindors had seen what the Slytherins had not.

"And just what is going on here?" asked a crisp voice. Headmistress McGonagall apparently hadn't lost her nose for trouble and had turned up at the table in record time. "Move along now. It's Saturday. I'm sure you've all got better things to do than hang round the Great Hall."

The Slytherin girls slouched off, leaving Ginny doubly annoyed, first with her mother and now with the Slytherins. As she was getting up from the table, she couldn't help but hear some of the whispers from the older Gryffindor girls. Even though she knew they meant well, they'd suddenly seemed to find Ginny's love life quite interesting, as a result of the Rita Skeeter article. While they weren't nasty about it in the same way the Slytherin girls were, Ginny still didn't like being the focus of school gossip.

She felt a nudge in her side, and she turned to find herself looking up into Colin Creevey's hazel eyes. "I'll be photographer at your wedding if you want," he said quietly, leaning in so she could hear him and putting a hand on her shoulder. There was enough of a glint in his eye to let Ginny know he hadn't been taking any of the gossip seriously, and she was grateful for that.

"That would be lovely, Colin," she replied. "I'll let you know when we've set a date."

Ginny made her way up to the staff table, where Hermione was finishing up her breakfast. She was still cringing with embarrassment over her mother's letter. She wondered how Hermione's mother felt about Hermione and Ron's relationship. Hermione was the only daughter in her family, too, after all. Of course, perhaps Hermione's parents hadn't had such a close brush with teenage pregnancy, either…

Hermione had to show Ginny the way up to her rooms in the staff wing, which was located in a part of the castle Ginny had never been in before. The girls had to navigate two or three hidden passages before reaching what looked like a blank expanse of stone wall, which Hermione tapped with her wand while muttering a password that Ginny was unable to make out.

"Sorry," commented Hermione, as they continued, "I'm not supposed to let any student know the password. Technically I don't think I'm even supposed to bring you up here…"

"Didn't you used to go visit Hagrid a lot when he was still alive?"

"Well, yes, but he didn't live in the staff wing, did he? In any case, I'm allowed to have guests and you're here as my guest. Here we are."

Hermione had opened a stout wooden door to reveal a cosy sitting room. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. There was another door at the far end of the room, which had to lead to a bedroom.

Hermione chose a large book from a haphazard pile on the coffee table and plunked down in an armchair with it. Ginny moved towards the sofa with her bag, but Hermione stopped her. "You might be more comfortable using my desk, Ginny. You'll need a spot to write."

But Ginny wasn't sure she was ready to get started just yet. "Can I ask you about something first?" she asked, taking a seat on the sofa. "It's… well, it's personal," she got out, feeling her cheeks redden.

"Of course. What is it?"

"Well…" Ginny wasn't sure how to begin. "You know how Mum was hovering over us all summer. Watching. Making sure no one got up to anything too dodgy…" 

Hermione was nodding vigorously. "How could I miss it? She told Ron and me off, too, you know."

"Yes, well, look what I got in the post today." She held out the letter from her mother to Hermione. "Could you read that and tell me, is your mother that bad? Is _anyone_ else that bad? And what am I going to do about it?"

Hermione gave Ginny a searching look as she took the letter. Ginny couldn't bring herself to look at her friend as she read the letter. "What did you and Harry do?" Hermione asked suddenly after a few minutes, and Ginny could only assume that Hermione had reached the end.

"Nothing. He just sneaked down to my room the last night under his invisibility cloak. But we didn't do anything you and Ron haven't done." Hermione went pale at this. "Well, we just slept together. We _only_ slept. Then in the morning, Mum came in before Harry had a chance to get out. He was able to hide under the cloak until she left, but as you can see, she worked out what was happening."

Hermione pursed her lips for a moment. "Well, to answer your question, no, my mum isn't that bad, but then Ron's never slept at our house. It's not as if she's never told me to be careful, though. As long as Ron and I have been together, I'm sure she's worked out a thing or two."

"But what am I going to do about Mum? She's driving me nuts with all this. Why can't she just let us be? It's not as if I've actually done anything that will get me into trouble. Not the sort she's worried about, anyway."

"You mean you and Harry haven't…"

"When did we have a chance to?"

"I thought on your birthday last year… You know, you were gone an awfully long time…"

"No, we didn't." Ginny paused for a moment. "I wanted to, but Harry told me he wasn't ready, and he stopped. I understand why he did that now. He knew about the spell by then, didn't he?"  


Hermione nodded her confirmation.

"He thought he was going to have to leave us." She felt herself beginning to tear up, but she forced herself to go on. "And then, even though he didn't leave us physically, in a sense he did. He wasn't himself for most of the summer, but we had a long talk before his birthday, and he seemed to be better. But that was like having to start over again. Again. It's the second time we've had to do that. But once things began to get better, Mum wouldn't leave us alone. And then, you know about what happened to Dad last week, don't you?"

Hermione nodded again. "Ron wrote to me and told me. How is your dad, by the way?"

"He's home and resting according to Mum. That was in the last owl she sent me. But she doesn't think it's anything for me to worry about."

Hermione looked concerned for a moment. "Well, go on. What about Harry?"

"Harry came home from work unexpectedly while everyone else was at St Mungo's. I couldn't go because I hadn't finished packing yet, and we had the perfect opportunity then. He even asked me… But we couldn't. It was the wrong time of the month."

"Oh, Ginny, I'm sorry."

"And now I don't know when we're going to see each other again."

"What about the ball?"

"Yes, there is that, but it's so far away. And with no hope of a Hogsmeade weekend this autumn…" It had been announced at the beginning of term feast that there wouldn't be any Hogsmeade visits until the shops were ready to open, and that wouldn't be happening in the foreseeable future.

"Then you'll have plenty of time to get ready."

"Ron will be coming up for that, won't he?"

Hermione began to grin at that. "Don't worry about Ron. I'll keep him occupied. He won't notice a thing. You and Harry aren't the only ones having to do without, you know. It isn't as if we had that many chances over the summer, either, with your mum hovering about. It only gets worse once you know what you're missing."

Ginny stared for a moment. The normally staid Head Girl persona had dropped away. "Hermione!" she said at last, beginning to laugh, "I can't believe you just said that. And about my brother, too. There are details I don't want to know about my family members, thank you very much!"

"Oh, well, then I guess I won't be giving you any advice then."

"You damned well better!"

*

Harry stared at the blank parchment in front of him, wracking his brains for inspiration. _Dear Ginny, _he wrote and then stopped. No, that sounded too formal. He scratched that out and tried again. _Hi Ginny!_ Too casual. He started over. _Ginny…_ Then he stopped and stared some more.

Tomorrow would mark a week since Ginny had left for school, and he still hadn't written to her yet. His problem was he had no idea what to say to her. He'd tried over the past few days, tried what seemed like a hundred times to write to her. If only he could get started, he thought, it would all come to him. But it never did. On a few occasions he'd managed a sentence or two, but something was always wrong with it.

He'd received her letter on Wednesday morning. It had come with the regular owl post, addressed to the Burrow, but Harry had recognised the writing and immediately known it was for him. And it was huge. He'd never seen such a long letter in his life. And if he was perfectly honest with himself, it intimidated him. Did Ginny expect him to write the same sort of thing back to her?

He'd realised right away that one of the reasons she'd written so much was to kill the time it took to reach Hogwarts. She'd said at the beginning that she had just boarded the train and didn't feel like talking to anyone. And then when she'd closed she'd mentioned that they'd just arrived in Hogsmeade. That part of the letter wasn't the problem. 

It was everything she'd written in between. And it wasn't as if he minded terribly the things she'd had to say. No, there were parts he'd read so often he'd memorised them by now. He'd been carrying the letter around with him as one of the few links he had left to her. It went along with the talisman that he still wore, and the dragon she'd given him for his birthday, which was lying on his pillow at the moment. It was just that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to respond in kind. He bit his lip in frustration and made himself put something down on the page.

__

Ginny, it's nice to hear from you. I hope your first day went all right. Is Snape still a git? Who have they hired for Defence this year? Things are OK here. Your dad seemed better today. Love, Harry

He immediately crumpled up the sheet of parchment. He could just imagine her reply: "Dear Harry, I'm glad things are going so well for you. I know how much thought and time you put into that letter. Love, Ginny." That bit about her dad wasn't even completely true. He'd got the impression that Mrs Weasley was very worried about her husband, although she was taking pains to hide it. 

He had to get this done and soon. His lunch hour was ticking away. What he ought to write was his feelings. That's what she'd written, after all. But there was something daunting about putting them down in ink. It was more permanent somehow. He could just about say some of what he felt for Ginny, but he didn't know if he was ready to write it.

He decided to get out her letter for inspiration. Unfolding the parchment, he began to reread what to him was the most incomprehensible part: "My heart hurts to think that we have to be apart. It hurts. Physically. I can put my fist over the very spot. It's as if part of me has been torn away, and yet I know I'm my own person. I make my own decisions, I do what I want, and yet I'm not whole without you." As often as he'd read that over to himself, he still had trouble bending his mind around it. How was he worth even a small part of what she was? Especially now…

He bit his lip and started again. He _would _get this done.

__

Dear Ginny,

First let me say, I'm sorry it's taken me this long to write back to you. Please don't think I was too busy or didn't have time to write (although things are still hectic at the Ministry at the moment), because honestly you are all I thought about. I've been trying to write back to you ever since I got your letter, but it's difficult. I can't reply to your letter the way I want to. Nothing I ever wrote could ever be good enough. Believe me, I've been trying. I've crumpled up enough parchment to hide behind.

"I hope that's Ministry business you're working on there, Potter."

Harry scrambled to hide the parchment, not because it wasn't actually Ministry business, but because his letter to Ginny wasn't any of St John's affair. "It's my lunch hour. I was under the impression I could do what I wanted with my time."

"Your lunch hour is over. Just because you have a famous name doesn't mean everyone is going to fawn all over you."

Harry really wanted to reply with something nasty this time. St John had a talent for making remarks like this when no one else was around to hear it. Whenever one of the other solicitors was within earshot, he was all sweetness and light towards Harry, but Harry didn't think the others were really fooled by his act. 

He was saved by having to answer by the sound of someone coming into the office. Looking up, he realised it was more than one person. His godfather was standing at the counter surrounded by a guard of Aurors. Once again, Sirius looked like he had when he'd was newly escaped from Azkaban, although his hair wasn't quite as long. It was matted, though, and his face was drawn. His eyes were focused, glittering with a desire for freedom.

Harry's stomach dropped to the floor, and he suddenly felt cold. After all these years as a fugitive, he'd finally been caught. As a member of the Order, Sirius had benefited from a certain level of protection due to Dumbledore's influence. But Dumbledore was dead now. And Sirius had been caught in Wormtail's stead. Again. Harry felt as if he was about to be sick.

He got to his feet shakily. "Sirius, is there anything I can do?"

"Sirius?" said St John. "On first name basis with wanted criminals now, are we?"

Harry ignored St John and the consequences of what he'd just revealed for the moment. All he cared about was his godfather. Sirius stared, wide-eyed, at Harry for a few seconds before saying, "No, Harry, everything's all right. I've caught him." The relief was evident in his tone.

Harry approached his godfather, but the Aurors seemed to crowd around him like a human shield. "If everything's all right, then why the guard?"

"Technically I haven't been pardoned yet. I'm here to work that out."

"You'll be here to see Hill, then."

"Yes."

Harry reached over to hold open the swinging door in the counter. "It's through here." The phalanx of Aurors moved as a body towards the opening. "You don't have to all come in with him, do you?" Harry asked, his voice rising in irritation. "He's hardly going to do anything. He's innocent and he's here to prove it."

"Move aside," grumbled one of the Aurors. "Don't interfere in official Ministry business. This is none of your affair."

"He's my _godfather!_ Of course it's my affair!" Harry was fairly shouting now.

"What's going on here?" Hill had emerged from his office, no doubt attracted by the noise. Then he spotted Sirius and stopped short. "Sirius Black!"

"Mr Hill, Sirius is my godfather, and he's innocent," Harry interjected before anyone else could respond. "He can prove it to you, if you'd let him. You can, can't you?" Harry asked his godfather. Sirius nodded. "He doesn't need all these Aurors guarding him."

"It's standard procedure, Harry," said Hill calmly.

"I can vouch for him, Mr Hill. He isn't going to do anything. Use one of those Sincerity Charms on him and ask him!"

"Yes, that's an excellent idea. Move aside, please," Hill added to the Aurors as he drew his wand and trained it on Sirius. "Now, are you here with evidence of your innocence?"

"I am," replied Sirius.

Hill nodded. "All right," he said to the Aurors, "I'm satisfied. You can all go back to your department." The Aurors looked put out to a man, but they obeyed, breaking ranks and allowing Sirius to pass. "Harry, perhaps you should join us. St John can fill in for you while we hear your godfather's story. St John, can you please pull all files relevant to the Black case?"

St John did not look happy with this turn of events, but he could hardly say anything in protest. Harry grinned to himself as he followed Sirius into Hill's office.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: A lot of readers were wondering what the unfortunate occurrence in the last chapter was. It was meant to be Arthur breaking his leg, but those author's notes were also a bit of a joke, as well as a tribute to Lemony Snicket.

Yes, there is an Arthur/Molly back-story being hinted at here. I don't think I'm going to be able to tell it in the context of this story, but I may write it as a separate fic, once I've finished this one.

Once again I need to thank Marian for all her help and ideas in this chapter. She's writing this story just as much as I am, as well as providing lots of support and laughs. Thanks also goes to Paula and Monique for their help and suggestions. Thanks to everyone for your reviews and continued support.

I'm not going to make any guarantees on updating weekly during the holidays. It's going to depend on how hectic my life gets. 


	11. Chapter 11

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Eleven

Harry had lost track of how long they'd been sitting in Hill's office. Sirius had been talking for a long time, while something that closely resembled a Quick Quotes Quill scuttled across an ever lengthening roll of parchment. The only difference with Hill's quill was that it recorded Sirius' exact words without embellishment. When they'd first entered the office, Hill had produced the quill and parchment and demonstrated for them by carefully describing the circumstances in which they found themselves. Harry had watched the quill while Hill, and later Sirius talked, until he had no doubt that it was transcribing events both faithfully and accurately.

Once the quill had been set up, Hill had trained his wand on Sirius, muttering a Sincerity Charm, and asked Sirius to tell his story, beginning with the events leading up to Pettigrew's disappearance and leaving nothing out. And so Sirius had begun, telling what to Harry was a familiar story, about how it had been known that Voldemort was looking for the Potters, how it had been feared that there was a spy in their midst. About the Fidelius Charm and the change of secret keeper. About Peter's betrayal. About his faked death, which had set Sirius up to take the fall. About being sent to Azkaban without a trial.

At this point Hill stopped Sirius and sent Harry out for the case files, which he'd asked St John to pull. They'd consisted of a single roll of parchment--the unfinished parchment on Hill's desk was already longer--but Hill pointed out that this was hardly surprising. There had been no trial, after all, and no need to mount a case.

"Yes, I remember," Hill commented. "I was a junior solicitor at the time. It was obvious to everyone that Black was guilty…"

Here Sirius made a strangled sort of sound in his throat, the kind a dog makes when it stretches too far on its leash and is yanked back. Hill looked straight at Sirius, as he continued. "There was no other conclusion to be drawn. Evidently everyone was wrong."

Harry found it rather unsettling that Hill had betrayed no sign of surprise at Sirius' story up to this point. Most of the wizarding world feared Sirius as the Dark Lord's right hand man, one of his trusted inner circle. Learning that public perception had been wrong for the past seventeen years ought to have shaken him, but he showed no outward sign of it. 

"I see no sign through the Sincerity Charm that you are lying to me, Mr Black," Hill went on. "And no sign you're keeping anything from me. But I do need to ask you one thing. Why did you laugh when the street was blown apart? Because that, as much as anything else convinced people of your guilt."

Sirius hesitated, thinking it over, and then gave a twisted sort of smile. "We were all friends at school, you know. James, Remus, Peter and I. And we liked to pull pranks as much as we could. But Peter bunged things up for us more often than not. He wasn't particularly talented at _anything._ And yet he pulled one over on all of us. No one suspected him. He got the last laugh. And the irony of that… Sometimes you just have to laugh so you don't break down and cry. Then there was the shock on top of that. My best friend and his wife were dead. And it was my fault, really, wasn't it? I more or less handed them over to Voldemort myself. And through Peter… _Peter_ of all people."

Harry watched his godfather the entire time he was speaking. It was difficult for Harry to fathom that Sirius could still feel responsible after all these years. There was just no way he could have _known._ There was no way anyone could have. But Harry could see the expression in Sirius' eyes--he'd seen it before in the Shrieking Shack--it was the look of someone who would bear a burden of guilt with him to the grave.

Sirius went on with this story at Hill's request, telling how he'd seen the picture in the _Daily Prophet_, which showed that Peter was still alive, and how Sirius had managed to escape Azkaban himself. How he'd almost had Peter at the end of Harry's third year, but how Peter had escaped at that time and returned to Voldemort. He went on to describe the sort of missions he'd gone on for Dumbledore and the Order during the war.

Here Hill stopped him again. "Would there be any sort of record of your activities during the war?"

"Dumbledore may have kept some. But I couldn't tell you where."

"I'll make enquiries. The Dark Lord's most trusted servant would hardly have been fighting on Dumbledore's side these past years."

"You would think not," commented Sirius dryly. "Do you need me to tell you about Peter's capture? I believe the Aurors were going to question him under Veritaserum."

"I can get those details from them, then. What I'm more concerned with at the moment is your escape from Azkaban."

"_What?_" cried Harry, unable to contain himself. "You've just now said yourself that you believe Sirius' story, and you're wondering about why he escaped from prison? He was innocent. He shouldn't have been there in the first place!"

"Be that as it may, Harry," replied Hill, "he did, by his own admission escape from Azkaban. Whether he was innocent or not has nothing to do with it. He has not yet been officially exonerated by the Ministry. Now from all that I've heard here today, unless I see some fairly damning evidence to the contrary, I have every reason to believe that Sirius Black will be exonerated by the Ministry, but until that time, he is, technically, still an escaped convict."

"But what does that mean? You can't just send him back to prison. He's innocent!"

"I believe that he's innocent, but he has not yet been _proven_ innocent in the legal sense. And until such time that he is, I'm afraid my hands are tied." Hill sighed heavily. "I'm bound to follow the system, Harry. Usually it works…"

"System? The system wasn't followed in Sirius' case. He didn't even have a trial! Any of the suspected Death Eaters we're prosecuting at the moment are going to get their chance to state their case. Sirius didn't do anything, and he didn't have that chance."

"Yes, and that may very well turn out to be a mitigating factor in all of this. That and any evidence they had in Black's original case was purely circumstantial. I'll see what I can do, Harry, but I can't make any promises."

Harry wanted to protest some more, but Sirius intervened. "Leave it, Harry. We've told our story, and now we'll just have to trust that things will work out the way they ought to."

"They can't send you back to that place, Sirius! Mr Hill, can't you work something out? I can vouch for Sirius. He isn't going to do anything."

"As I said, Harry, I'll see what I can do," said Hill. "But there are no precedents in a case like this. No one has ever escaped from Azkaban before, and I can't begin to guess what anyone would want to do about it. The more evidence of Mr Black's innocence we can present, the better. So far we have his story, and possibly Pettigrew's. We may have evidence that Dumbledore trusted you, but that isn't at hand, so I can't present it at the moment. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if the Aurors have finished with Pettigrew. This may take a while. Harry, you can stay with your godfather if you want. St John can continue to fill in for you."

He took up the parchment, along with Sirius' case file and left the room. Harry turned to Sirius. "So how did you manage to catch Wormtail?" He knew they had other issues to discuss, but Harry wasn't quite ready to delve into them yet.

"There isn't really a whole lot to tell. His friends were defeated, so he had to go into hiding on his own. It was mostly a matter of tracking him then. You see, I was able to get close enough to him during the battle in dog form to pick up his scent. In the confusion he didn't realise I was there. I tried to catch him then, but he got away from me. But I was determined to track him, and I did. Odd thing about him though…"

"What was that?"

"His hand was missing."

"His hand?"

"Yes, the silver hand…" Sirius trailed off, but then he hardly needed to remind Harry of the circumstances under which Wormtail had received that hand. "I wonder how he managed to lose it."

"It was magical. Voldemort gave it to him. He couldn't just lose it…"

"Well, no I suppose not, but I think we have more important things to discuss. I got your letter. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What do you remember about that day?"

Sirius grimaced. "Lots of smoke. Explosions. Fighting… It's not anything I want to dwell on."

"But about Voldemort specifically?"

"I remember you duelled with him. There was a light, too bright to look at, and then he was gone… And I saw what Malfoy tried to do to you. I ran over to see if you were all right. And I've just now remembered… The hand. There was a hand on the ground where Voldemort had been standing. I didn't think anything of it at the time, because of all the explosions…" Sirius shuddered. "But now that I think about it… No, that can't be it…"

"Was there anything else on the ground there?" Harry asked, a shiver of foreboding running down his spine. He had a feeling he knew what else might have been left there, but would Sirius make the connection? The night of Voldemort's re-embodiment was indelibly etched into Harry's mind. It had been fodder for countless nightmares in the intervening years. Sirius had only heard his account of that night in Dumbledore's office.

"I can't really remember."

"No blood? No dust?"

"It was hard to tell. I'm sure there was blood but that's hardly surprising. What are you getting at, Harry?"

Harry swallowed. "In a way, it's related to Wormtail's hand I think…"

Sirius looked intrigued. "How?"

"I think that if Wormtail doesn't have his silver hand anymore, it's a sign. Voldemort is really gone this time…"

"How do you know this?"

"When I duelled with him in Hogsmeade, I used a spell on him…"

"A spell… Yes, I remember the light from it, but perhaps you'd better start at the beginning."

And that's what Harry did. He told the story one final time, or so he thought, of how Hermione had found the spell after they'd all searched for weeks. And he told Sirius exactly what had happened when he'd used the spell in the duel.

When he'd finished, Sirius stared at him for a moment in disbelief. "Let me get this straight… You found a spell which would defeat Voldemort but at the cost of your own powers…"

Harry nodded, and then braced himself for the onslaught.

"Harry, what the _hell_ were you thinking? No, don't even bother answering that. You weren't thinking, were you, because if you were you'd never even have considered anything even remotely like that!" Sirius got out of his chair and began pacing back and forth. "I can't believe Dumbledore let you do something like that!"

"He didn't know," Harry said quietly. 

"You took on something of this magnitude without telling Dumbledore?"

"What good would it have done me to tell? It was my choice to make in the end, wasn't it?"

"So you and Hermione took it upon yourselves to do this spell…" Sirius had obviously not heard what Harry had just said.

"No," said Harry a bit louder, "I just told you it was _my_ choice. Hermione didn't do anything but find it and translate it. After that she didn't have any choice but to go along with it."

Sirius ran a hand through his dirty hair, causing it to stand on end. "Well, she knew about it. I thought she was more clever than that! Why didn't she tell anyone? Why didn't she stop you?"

"Because I made her promise not to. She understood that I had to do this. Why can't you?"

"It wasn't worth it, Harry. We could have found another way to defeat him!"

"At what cost, Sirius? More lives? More _innocent_ lives?"

Sirius stopped pacing and turned to look straight at Harry. "And you haven't paid a price? You have your whole life ahead of you!"

"I'm one person, Sirius, and I didn't lose my life."

"You could have!"

"But I didn't!"

"You didn't have to do this!"

"I did! It was the only way!"

"There had to be another way!"

Harry was standing by now, himself. "What was it then? If there had been one, Dumbledore would have found it! We were _losing_!"

Sirius threw up his hands in frustration and began pacing again. "You're just as stubborn as your father! You should have told someone you trusted!"

"I did, I told Hermione. I couldn't tell you, could I? Just look at how you're reacting when it's too late to even do anything about it."

"Of course I'm reacting like this!" Sirius fairly shouted. "What did you expect me to say? Oh, Harry you have no powers left, but it doesn't matter because Voldemort is gone. Thanks for that. Cup of tea?"

"Keep your voice down, Sirius! I already told you I want this kept a secret. I don't know how strong the silencing spells on this office are."

"Oh, and how are you going to keep this from getting out?"

"I've managed so far. I've even found a job."

"Some job, Harry. You're a filing clerk. You ought to be playing professional Quidditch! God, you could have done so many things, and you just gave it up!"

"I'm getting by. I don't need magic to live. Muggles do without."

"You are _not_ a Muggle. You will never _be _a Muggle! You weren't _meant_ to be one!"

"There's no point in arguing about it. It won't change anything."

"Maybe there's a cure, another spell, something. Have you even looked?"

"We asked Remus…"

"Remus? Remus! Are you telling me he knew about this and he didn't say anything to me?"

"Yes, he knew but I asked him not to tell you. I felt it was something I should tell you myself." Sirius looked as if he wanted to keep arguing, but couldn't come up with anything. "Anyway," Harry went on, "we asked Remus what he knew about it, and he didn't know of anything. He said I had to learn to accept it."

"Well, that's not surprising coming from him, but as smart as Remus is, he doesn't know everything."

"Do you know of anything then?"

"No, but I'm sure there's something out there. There just has to be." He was beginning to sound desperate. "God, I just wish you would have told me about this sooner!"

"I couldn't do that," replied Harry calmly.

"Why the _hell _not?"

"Because you had to go after Wormtail. Look at how you're reacting now. If I'd have told you any sooner you'd have dropped all that. I couldn't let you do that."

"Well of course, I would have dropped everything! What kind of godfather would I be if I wasn't there when you needed me? I haven't been able to be there for you the way I ought to, Harry, and this is just one more occasion I couldn't be there."

"And that's exactly why I didn't tell you! I'm sorry, but I needed you to catch Wormtail, because that's the only way you could prove your innocence and have a chance to be my godfather. If you didn't catch him you would have remained a fugitive and then where would you be? On the run! I couldn't let you give up your chance at freedom!"

"All right…" Sirius made an obvious effort at calming himself before he went on. "You're perfectly right about that. And I would have come. Because you're more to me than just James' son. There, I've said it. He asked me to be your godfather, and I've never felt like I was anything other than a failure at it."

Harry was rather stunned at this pronouncement, and he didn't quite know how to react to it. "You know," he said at last, "Remus was right about you. You try to come off like this big, scary bloke. Mad Sirius Black and all that. But inside you're nothing but a puppy dog!"

Sirius' mouth dropped open in surprise. "I can't believe Remus told you that! James used to call me that. Drove me mad with it."

"Sirius," Harry went on quietly, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It's not that I didn't want to tell you. But it wasn't something I could put into a letter. And you weren't there…" Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Harry rushed on before he could say anything. "I understand why you weren't. I'm glad you weren't because it meant you were looking for Wormtail, and you've caught him now. My news could wait. Nothing's been changed by the fact that you didn't know sooner, now, has it? But if I had said something sooner, perhaps you wouldn't have caught Wormtail.

"And if you're put out with me for giving up my powers in the first place, I'm sorry. I learned of a way to put a stop to Voldemort, and I had to try it. And it looks as if it might have worked, so it can't be all bad, can it?"

Sirius nodded once. "All right, I don't want to argue about this anymore. We aren't getting anywhere with it, are we? But this is going to take some getting used to. It's such a shock…"

Harry sighed. "I know… I'm still working on dealing with it."

Suddenly Sirius was standing in front of him and enveloping him in a hug, which Harry returned awkwardly. Pulling back, Harry grimaced. "Sirius, please don't take this the wrong way, but… Well, how long has it been since you've had a proper bath?"

"Sorry about that. I suppose I am getting a bit gamy…"

"I suppose that's one way of putting it."

"Harry, what did you mean just now about dealing with it?"

Harry shrugged and sank back down into his chair. "Mostly it's getting used to doing things a bit differently. I'll manage. Ginny…"

"Ginny? Ginny Weasley? What's this now? Something else you've been neglecting to tell me?" His tone was much lighter now. "You've been staying with the Weasleys, haven't you? How long has this been going on?"

Harry felt himself beginning to blush. "About a year now," he mumbled.

"A year? Looks like that book I gave you last year came in handy then."

"Erm, yeah… I mean no," he tacked on lamely, blushing even more.

Sirius looked at him knowingly. "Well, you're past the age where I need to be having talks with you, aren't you?"

"Yes," Harry said quickly. This was almost as bad as having Mrs Weasley walk in on him and Ginny.

"Then all I need to tell you is to be careful then."

"Not much chance of anything happening, anyway. Her mother was watching us like a hawk all summer, and now she's back at Hogwarts for her seventh year."

"Well I hope you write to her more often than you do to me."

Harry couldn't look at Sirius. He was guilty on both counts. "I don't know how to write stuff like that. She wrote to me, and… I can't write that sort of thing. I don't know how."

Sirius seemed to consider, as if he was searching in his memory, and Harry had to wonder if he'd ever been in a position like this. "Well, you just have to write it. Don't think about it, just do it. And don't ever read back over it, because if you do, you'll never send it."

"I should, I know. After everything she's done for me, she deserves it."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"She saved me. She's saved me twice now. She saved my life with that talisman she made me…"

Sirius let out a whistle, cutting Harry off. "_She_ made you the talisman?"

"Yes, but that's a secret, and she doesn't like anyone to talk about it. And she helped me get out of a really bad spot this summer. She saved me from myself, really."

Sirius looked as if he wanted to bring up the fact that he should have been there for Harry too, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if searching for the right way to put it. "Don't start again," Harry cut across him. "I don't want to argue about that anymore. Let's just say I haven't had an easy time adjusting to everything, but it's been getting better. And I couldn't have done it without her."

"In that case, you'd better write to her. And don't say anything stupid." Harry was grateful to Sirius for keeping it light. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to examine his feelings for Ginny in front of Sirius.

The door opened in the next moment, and Hill came striding into the room. Sirius took his seat again. "Right," said Hill without preamble. "Here's where we stand. I've showed your deposition to the head of the Department, along with your old case file, and the evidence gained from Mr Pettigrew. While he is in agreement with me that there were some irregularities in your case of seventeen years ago and that there is ample evidence to put your guilt in doubt, we cannot ignore your escape from Azkaban. Now…" 

He paused for breath. "There are no precedents in this case, as I stated earlier, since no one has ever escaped from Azkaban before, but since you are still technically a convicted criminal until such time as we can see about your getting an exoneration from the Minister of Magic, you cannot be allowed to go free. What we are prepared to do, however, is allow you to remain in the custody of your godson, provided you take an oath that you will not attempt to escape. While he is at his place of employment, you shall remain at his current place of residence in Ottery St Catchpole. You shall not leave Harry's place of residence unless you are accompanied by Harry himself. I strongly suggest to you that you remain in the house unless you are summoned in to the Ministry on official business."

Sirius blinked a few times, and Harry fought off the urge to laugh. "So I'm to be placed under house arrest? I'm hardly going to attempt to escape if I want to prove my innocence, am I?"

"Of course you wouldn't, but the head of the Department requires it. It's for form's sake more than anything else. We just can't let you go when you haven't been officially exonerated yet, you see, and I'm going out on a bit of a limb here. We're assuming the Weasleys won't object to your presence in their home, Mr Black."

"They won't," said Harry quickly. "They know all about Sirius."

If Hill was surprised at all by that statement, he did not let it show. "Then I think it might be best if you take Mr Black back to the Weasleys' with you." He looked at his watch. "There won't be much sense in you coming back into the Ministry today, Harry."

It was Harry's turn to blink in surprise. "But…"

"Don't argue with me, Harry. I know we're busy, but things are going to get worse before they get better. Take advantage of some time off while you can."

"Wait," Harry said quickly. "How are we going to get out of here without attracting attention? I can't leave from the Apparition point. All sorts of people are going to see us."

"You're right. You can leave from my office. I'll cover for you so it doesn't look funny, all right?"

"All right, then," said Harry. "Just let me collect my things. Wait for me here, Sirius, I won't be a moment."

When Harry stopped at his desk, he noticed a few of his things had been displaced in a rather suspicious manner, and he was extremely happy he'd stuffed his unfinished letter to Ginny into his pocket earlier. He wouldn't put it past St John at all to go through his desk… At least he was going home early, and St John was going to have to do Harry's job for the rest of the day.

"How are we going to manage to leave from here?" Sirius asked quietly when Harry came back into Hill's office. "You wouldn't be able to Apparate out of here even if you could…"

"I've got a Portkey. Hold on to my robes."

With a final nod to Hill, Harry reached into his pocket and turned the hands to six o'clock. Within minutes, they found themselves in the Burrow's kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was sitting at the table sipping at a mug of tea. She jumped, spilling tea onto the front of her apron when Harry and Sirius appeared.

"Goodness, Harry!" she exclaimed. "Sirius! What on earth is going on?" Harry thought she looked a bit preoccupied.

"Would it be all right if Sirius stayed here for a while?" Harry asked.

"Why yes, of course it would, but… Won't the Ministry be looking for you?"

"They're already aware of where I am, Molly," replied Sirius. 

"But how…"

"Sirius!" Mr Weasley had just come hobbling in from the living room. He'd evidently been in there and had heard the commotion caused by Sirius' and Harry's unexpected arrival. He limped towards a chair, wincing as he sat down. "What brings you here?"

"He's caught…" Harry began, and then he stopped, remembering his confidentiality agreement. Was he allowed to discuss this with the Weasleys? The information he had was something he'd learned at the office, but yet it was nothing Sirius wouldn't have told him under other circumstances. "Erm, Sirius, I think you'd better tell this. I'm not supposed to talk about anything that goes on at the office, but you haven't sworn not to tell, have you?"

"No… All right. I've caught Peter Pettigrew, which means I can prove I'm innocent of any wrongdoing."

Mr Weasley let out an exclamation of surprise, while his wife smiled, and placed a hand over her heart. "Oh, how wonderful for you!" she said.

"Mr Hill has arranged things so I can stay here while I'm waiting for the Ministry to decide what they're going to do with my case, but I'm more or less under house arrest while I'm waiting," added Sirius. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

"No, of course not," said Mrs Weasley. "As long as I know a horde of Aurors isn't going to break down my door and carry you off in the middle of the night. I've had as much excitement as I can take for the next while."

Harry knew she was referring to Mr Weasley's accident last week. "No, that shouldn't be a problem," said Sirius. "But are you sure? If I'm only going to be a reminder of…"

Mrs Weasley cut him off. "Don't talk such nonsense. Charlie may have given up his life to save yours, but I know that you'd have done the same if the situation had been reversed."

Sirius looked stunned for a moment. "Thank you," he rasped. Then he cracked a half smile and went on. "It's just a bit strange… They've put me in the custody of my eighteen-year-old godson until they've decided."

"Does that mean I get to give you orders?" asked Harry. "Because I command you to go take a bath. And burn those robes while you're at it."

While Mrs Weasley took showed Sirius up to the bathroom and got him some clean clothes to change into, Harry continued up to Ron's room. He had a letter to finish, and he didn't know when he'd have a few spare hours to work on it.

*

__

Dear Ginny… Ginny remembered the way her hands had shaken as she unfolded the parchment when Hedwig had first delivered it. (It had arrived, ironically enough, along with another offering from the twins, a selection of magical prophylactic devices, which apparently came in different sizes. Her brothers had made a bit of a production about saying they didn't know which size to get, so they'd let her decide.) She'd had to suppress the urge to let out a squeal of joy. It had been a huge relief to finally have a letter from him after so many days of being disappointed. Now she couldn't stop herself from taking another quick peek at it, even though the breakfast table wasn't the ideal place to read it with so many curious classmates about. She'd lost track of how many times she'd read it over the past few days.

Random sentences leapt out at her as she scanned down the page. 

__

I didn't know I could miss anyone this much… I know what you meant about your heart hurting. I feel the same way… Whenever I see a flash of red, I look up. I can't help it. I want it to be you so much, even though I know it can't be you… I can't wait to see you. Send me the Hogsmeade dates as soon as you know when they are. 

Ginny's heart sank, as it always did when she got to this part, and she couldn't go on. Harry was going to be so disappointed when he got her reply and he learned that there wouldn't be any Hogsmeade weekends in the foreseeable future. She folded up the letter and put in into her bag. She'd be able to read it over again in greater depth during History of Magic.

But as she rose from the table and headed towards the entrance hall with its marble staircase, Hermione pulled her aside. "Ginny, have you seen the newspaper today?"

"No, why?"

"Just look at this." 

Ginny took the paper from her friend, noticing the picture of Sirius Black on the front page. It was an old picture, the one that had been plastered over the _Daily Prophet _for months during her second year. His haunted eyes blinked slowly at her from under his tangle of matted hair. Heart sinking at the thought of what it would do to Harry if he were caught, she began to read.

__

The Ministry of Magic, in what seems to this reporter an incomprehensible decision, has seen fit to pardon escaped convict Sirius Black, writes Rita Skeeter. _The reader will remember that Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban almost seventeen years ago for the murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve other Muggles, all of whom he summarily dispatched with one curse. Black was also reputed to be in league with You-Know-Who during his first reign of terror, and some even placed him as high as second in command among the Dark Lord's followers. Not a week ago, he was sighted at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the company of a man who claimed to be Peter Pettigrew._

Undisclosed sources at the Ministry of Magic have informed the Daily Prophet _that according to Black, the alleged Mr Pettigrew has spent the better part of the past eighteen years disguised as a rat. One must question Black's sanity in light of the fact that he spent twelve years in the company of Dementors. The alleged Mr Pettigrew is apparently corroborating Black's story, leading this reporter to wonder if Black's friend isn't in need of a good cure at St Mungo's himself._

With news of the pardon granted, also comes word of monetary reparations for Black, "to make up for a grave injustice," in the words of Department of Magical Law Enforcement solicitor Badon Hill. This seems a rather extreme measure when one considers the fact that the merchants of Hogsmeade, who are under the obligation to rebuild their entire community, have received nothing for their troubles. Coincidentally Harry Potter, godson of Sirius Black, is currently employed in Hill's office as a clerk. It seems obvious to this reporter that it helps to have friends in high places.

The public would be well-advised to keep their doors locked at night and to ensure proper wards are cast over their properties. Public outcry for the resignation of any of a number of highly placed Ministry officials does not seem out of place in light of recent events. Ministry obviously does not consider public safety a priority.

Ginny slowly lowered the paper and handed it back to Hermione. She felt torn between happiness that Harry's godfather was a free man at last, and disgust at the way the story had been portrayed in the press. Judging from the look on Hermione's face, Hermione was entertaining similar thoughts.

"I wish I'd made her promise to be honest longer," Hermione muttered.

"What?" asked Ginny, perplexed.

"Remember back in fourth year--well it would have been third for you--when she was writing all those horrible, sensationalist articles?" Ginny nodded. "And then she stopped for a while?"

"Yes… There wasn't anything by her for a long time. Dad was pretty pleased about that."

"It's because I found out something about her. She's an illegal Animagus. She can turn into a beetle. Anyway, I caught her and made her promise to change her ways for a year, or else I'd report her. And she did. Only I see now I should have made her promise to quit forever."

"Can't you just turn her in now?"

"I'll have to check, but I somehow doubt it. She knows I know her secret. If she's clever at all, she will have registered."

"And she just had to bring up Harry again, didn't she? She can't go more than a day or two without dropping his name…"

"Did Harry mention anything about this in his letter at all? From the way things are stated in this article, he must have known something was happening."

"He didn't mention it, but maybe he couldn't. If this had anything to do with his Ministry job, he'd be bound by his confidentiality agreement, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so…" Hermione broke of and bit her lip. "It's wonderful that Sirius has been able to prove his innocence after all these years, but this article… I'm sure he was exonerated, and not pardoned. There's a difference, you know. If people believe Rita Skeeter's version of things, how is he ever going to find a place in the wizarding world?"

Ginny looked at Hermione sadly and shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea how else to respond.

*

Harry sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on his work, but it was difficult. In the days since Sirius had received his exoneration, it was difficult to think of anything else. He'd been ecstatic for his godfather when they'd first learned the news. Not only would Sirius' name be cleared of any wrongdoing, but the Ministry was willing to overlook his escape from Azkaban, as well as offer him a healthy compensation for the years he'd lost. Sirius had wanted to refuse the money, but Mr Weasley had counselled him not to make any hasty decisions. It should have been cause for celebration, and it had been. For one day. Sirius had been declared innocent, but from the treatment he'd received in the press, public opinion didn't seem to agree. 

Just yesterday, he'd taken Sirius to Ollivander's on his lunch hour to buy a new wand, to replace the one that had been snapped when his godfather was sent to prison, and Harry hadn't missed the way people has seemed to shrink away from Sirius, as if they were afraid he'd suddenly turn around and curse them all. The reception at the wand-maker's had been rather frosty as well, making Harry rather grateful that they were able to find a replacement wand in a short amount of time. Mr Ollivander had seemed pleased about that, too.

Harry had expressed his outrage to Ginny in a long letter the day the Rita Skeeter article had appeared, and he'd been surprised at how much that had helped, especially when Ginny had sent him a reply in the same angry tone. It was comforting to know that she, at least, agreed with him about the unfairness of the situation. Of course, the Weasleys who still remained at the Burrow were outraged, as well, but Ginny's reaction seemed to touch him all the more. 

Now he was tempted to write to her again and tell her about yesterday's shopping trip. He wouldn't have time for that before this evening, if then. The office was swamped. He'd had to work through his lunch hour today, and it looked as if he'd be staying after hours, as well. St John had been making snide comments under his breath to Harry about what a pity it was that Harry wasn't getting any more time off these days, which did nothing to improve Harry's mood.

He looked at his watch and saw there was about half an hour to go before the office officially closed for the day. From the pile of paperwork on his desk, he realised it would be past nine before he could go back to the Burrow. He sighed. If he was going to write to Ginny, he'd be staying up late to get it done.

It was almost six before he looked up again, as a shadow fell across his desk. Hill was standing there, accompanied by a man who looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

"Harry," said Hill, "this is Damian Bode from the Department of Mysteries. He needs to have a word with you."

Harry's heart sank and at the same time he felt a twinge of alarm. Was he ever going to get out of here? "But I'm not finished my work yet," he protested.

"No time for that now," said Bode. "This is official Ministry business. It takes precedent over everything else. If you'd just come with me, Harry…"

Harry had no choice but to follow.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Thanks once again goes to Marian, because I couldn't write this without her. Thanks also to my betas, and all my reviewers. I appreciate each and every one of you. I can't guarantee another chapter before New Year's but I'll see what I can do. Happy holidays, everyone!


	12. Chapter 12

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Twelve

Harry trudged through the labyrinth that was the Ministry of Magic in Bode's wake. They were back in the area that Harry remembered from his first day at work over a month ago. It had crumbling walls, unbroken by any indication of a door. He could only hope that Rita Skeeter wasn't hovering in some side corridor waiting to jump out at him. He could just imagine the headlines she'd make of this development: the famous Harry Potter being taken in for questioning by the Department of Mysteries.

But what could the Department of Mysteries want with him, really? This couldn't have anything to do with Sirius, could it? His godfather had been exonerated, after all, so Harry couldn't be considered to be harbouring a fugitive. In any case, that was the sort of thing Aurors and his own department looked into. Harry remembered Mr Weasley telling him four years ago that he had no idea what the employees of Department of Mysteries got up to. Harry could hardly expect to know anything more about it after a mere six weeks.

Bode halted abruptly in front of a bare expanse of wall. Harry watched as the Unspeakable tapped a spot where two cracks in the plaster ran together and muttered what was an obvious password under his breath. It was voiced too quietly for Harry to catch. Immediately the wall began to give way before Bode, opening into an archway and reminding Harry of the entrance to Diagon Alley, to reveal what had to be Bode's office. Harry followed him in, and the wall snapped shut behind them, causing an odd, prickling sensation to run down Harry's spine. Something told him he wouldn't be leaving this room until Bode was ready to let him go.

Without a further word to Harry, the Unspeakable began to rummage through a mess of parchment on his desk. It looked as if bits of various files had been left there in a heap. Harry caught a glimpse of the word "Black" on one piece of parchment before it was swept aside. On another, he thought he spied the word "Dumbledore". Then a slivery glimmer caught his eye, and he turned to see a Pensieve sitting on a shelf to one side. It had the same sort of runes on it that Harry remembered seeing on Dumbledore's Pensieve, but he didn't know enough about them to tell if this basin had indeed belonged to his former headmaster.

Bode continued to dig through his papers, evidently looking for something or other in the mess. Harry wondered how he managed to get anything done in such chaos. The only sound in the room was that of rustling parchment, and Harry wondered if he shouldn't just sit down, even though he hadn't been offered a seat. In the end, he did, just as Bode produced a Quick Quotes Quill and a blank roll of parchment, but still Bode didn't say anything.

The silence stretched out, and Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. Finally he could stand it no longer. "Excuse me, but could you tell me what this is all about?" His voice sounded unnaturally loud.

Bode gave him penetrating look, as the quill scratched out what Harry had just said. It was the only sound in the room. Harry felt as if Bode was looking straight into Harry's mind and reading what was there, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He suddenly had the impression that he knew what Ginny had felt like last year when Krum had looked into her soul. Was Bode a Soul Searcher as well? If so, then he'd probably just learned Harry's secret. But something didn't quite jibe. Soul Searchers were supposed to be rare. Could there be more than one of them alive at the same time? Or was Bode simply a good actor? Harry had no idea, but whatever was going on, it was creepy and unsettling.

"No," Bode replied at last. His voice was gruff. "I'll be asking the questions here."

"Haven't I got a right to know what's going on?" asked Harry, starting to feel irritated. If he had just been Searched, shouldn't he at least have had a chance to give his permission?

"You may, but you'll work that out soon enough. I'm not allowed to tell you, you see."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, knowing it was probably standing on end and not really caring. The whole situation was becoming more bizarre by the second.

"Now then," Bode began after a few more moments had passed in silence, "I need you to tell me what you did to Lord Voldemort."

Harry's jaw dropped. Was he about to be accused of murder? That would explain why he felt as if he were being treated like a criminal, anyway. "What I _did_ to him?" Harry repeated lamely.

"Yes, you duelled with him, and by all appearances, he's gone. How did you do it?"

"I… I used a spell," replied Harry, now more confused than ever. "I don't think it has a name… We found it in Hogwarts library."

"We?"

Harry wondered if he was about to get Ron, Hermione and Ginny into trouble now. "My friends and I."

"Tell me about it."

"What do you want to know, specifically?"

"Everything. Where and how you found it. How it works…"

"I can tell you some of it. I don't know how it works. I don't know _if _it worked." And, Harry added in his thoughts, there are some things I don't want to tell you.

"Then tell me what you do know."

And so Harry once again launched into the explanation of how Hermione and Ginny had worked out what the runic text might mean, and then the girls along with him and Ron had searched until Hermione had found the entire text and translated it fully. Bode stopped him here.

"What was the title of the book?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. "I have no idea. I never looked. It would have been in some ancient language, anyway. Even if I had looked I wouldn't have any idea what it meant."

"Do you remember what the book looked like?"

Harry shrugged. "Old… I don't know. It was dark. I don't pay attention to these things." He wondered why this was even important, but he knew it wouldn't do him much good to ask.

"All right. Go on then. What about this spell. What was the incantation?"

"I have no idea what the original was. I used Latin. Hermione translated it for me."

"Yes, well that hardly matters. It's the intent behind the spell as much as anything that makes it work successfully. What I'm most interested in is the incantation, though."

Harry didn't want to tell him. It mentioned the sacrifice after all, and he knew Bode was going to be interested in that, as well. He shifted uncomfortably. "_Exulo in tenebras ad perpetuitatem_,"he mumbled.

Bode looked at him hard once more, and again Harry had the impression the Unspeakable was looking right through him. "Impossible." It wasn't said in amazement; it was a statement of fact. "There has to be more to it than that. There isn't any possible way something that simple could have done it."

"Done what?"

"_I'm_ asking the questions here. Tell me what else there was to the spell."

"No. Not until you tell me why it's so important for you to know."

Bode didn't reply, so Harry closed his mouth and stared back. They sat this way for several minutes without blinking, until Harry finally spoke up. "Right. This is stupid. I've got work to do in my own department. It's sort of important, too. Helping round up the remaining Death Eaters and all. Granted I'm not actually building cases against them or anything like that, but still, someone has to lend the solicitors a hand so they can get things done properly. I haven't got time for staring contests."

He got up, wondering if the wall would react to his mere presence and let him through. He hoped so; he was going to look like an idiot otherwise. His heart leapt as the wall opened as he walked up to it, but he soon saw that it hadn't been reacting to him. Someone else was coming into Bode's office. Harry had to step back to allow the newcomer to pass.

"Ah, I see you've already started," said the man. "How are things going?"

Bode grunted and gestured to the parchment, where the quill was still skating across the page as it recorded the proceedings. The newcomer read over the parchment before sighing and turning to Harry. "I must apologise for my partner's rudeness. He's really not a people person, you see." He paused and extended a hand towards Harry. "Kermit Croaker. It's a pleasure. Have a seat, have a seat."

"I was just leaving," Harry replied.

Croaker actually looked hurt. "Oh… well that would be a pity, wouldn't it?"

Bode muttered something inaudible from the desk. Harry leaned forward to see if the quill had recorded Bode's words, but the Unspeakable snatched it up before it could write them down. Croaker turned to address him. "Why don't you get us some tea, while I have a word with Mr Potter here?"

Bode looked affronted, but he slumped off through the door. Croaker took a seat at the desk, and after rummaging a few moments for a fresh quill, looked at Harry. "Now, would you mind telling me what the trouble is?"

"Trouble? Your partner drags me here without a word of explanation and just expects me to answer his questions, and you're asking me what the trouble is? I don't have to co-operate, you know. I have rights. In fact, I'm not saying anything further until I know what you want with me."

Croaker's affable face hardened the slightest amount. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Departmental policy and all."

"Then we've got a problem, haven't we?"

Croaker lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment. Then he took the quill off the parchment once more. "All right. I'm bending the rules here, so you can't tell anyone. If I tell you what we're investigating, you'll have to agree to letting me perform a Memory Charm when we're finished here. Would you be willing to co-operate under those circumstances?"

"Perhaps. I just need to know one more thing. Who's going to find out about whatever I have to tell you once we're finished?"

"Oh, all this remains strictly within the Department of Mysteries. The Minister for Magic will be told the final conclusions of the investigation, but not the details. We keep those to ourselves. And you don't have to worry. Every employee of the Department of Mysteries is subject to a more stringent confidentiality agreement than your own department."

"And what if I choose not to co-operate? What can you do about it?"

"Not a thing, not a thing. But let me just point out that there are advantages if you co-operate. You'll be helping put public unease to rest." Harry raised his eyebrows, and Croaker went on. "You must have worked out by now what we're investigating."

"It's got to do with Voldemort."

"We're trying to prove he's truly gone this time. You must have noticed the war has never been declared over officially. The Minister doesn't want to have a situation occur where the war is declared over, Voldemort deemed gone, and then have him turn up again. Can you imagine the hysteria? Can you imagine the lack of confidence the wizarding public would then have in its leaders? Goodness knows, Fudge was bad enough…"

Cornelius Fudge had gone to his grave denying that Voldemort had truly returned. He'd been assassinated two summers ago. The new Minister had proved to be a lot more decisive, in any case, and more willing to help out Dumbledore. However, Harry was fairly sure there hadn't been complete trust between the Hogwarts headmaster and the Ministry. The Ministry had taken its own precautions, such as warding off Diagon Alley against attack, while allowing Dumbledore more or less free rein with the Order.

"…So you see, the Minister wants to be absolutely certain that Voldemort is gone before declaring any sort of celebrations. But once we're able to do that, things can start going back to normal."

Normal. What was normal for the wizarding world? Harry wasn't sure he knew. "You're going to have to _obliviate_ me as it is now, aren't you?" he asked.

Croaker had the grace to look abashed. "Well, yes."

Harry sighed. "All right, I'll co-operate. But you're going first. You're going to tell me all about this investigation, because, you see, I used a spell on Voldemort, and it looks as if he's gone. But even I'm not one hundred percent certain it worked."

And so Croaker explained. After the battle in Hogsmeade, there had been a widespread, but largely secret search for Voldemort, but no trace of him could be found anywhere. Department of Mysteries investigators had examined the spot where Voldemort had been last seen, but nothing had been made of hand that had been lying on the ground, nor of the blood. They had been considered simple by-products of the battle. Until the department had laid hands on Dumbledore's Pensieve, which the Ministry had taken into possession when it had gathered evidence for Sirius' case. 

"And there we saw something very odd," said Croaker. "There we found an account of the night Voldemort re-embodied, an account given by an eye-witness to Dumbledore himself." Here Croaker looked straight at Harry, and Harry knew exactly what scene the Unspeakable was referring to. "We might never have seen it, except that your godfather was present, and your department had asked us specifically for Dumbledore's memories as they related to your godfather's case. And I know I don't have to tell you what was involved in that re-embodiment spell."

"Flesh, blood and bone," said Harry dully.

"Flesh, more specifically a hand, and not just any hand. One from Voldemort's servant, one with a missing finger. Looking back at the description of what was found on the spot where Voldemort was last seen, that hand was indeed missing the forefinger. The blood was also present, but the bone…"

"It would have been impossible to see," Harry broke in quietly. "The bone was taken from Voldemort's father's grave. It had decomposed into dust by then. If there had been any of it left on the spot, it wouldn't have been noticed. Or the wind would have blown it away."

Croaker nodded. "Well, then, another piece falls into place. I'll need you to repeat that on the record, though." 

Harry waited while Croaker set up the quill to record what they were saying once more, and repeated his statement. Then the Unspeakable went on. "That, along with Mr Pettigrew's missing replacement hand and the Dark Marks disappearing from his followers' arms… Well, that in itself doesn't point to anything. Those disappeared the last time, only to reappear as Voldemort became strong once more. We didn't know about them at the time of his first defeat, however. The fact that they've disappeared again does point to his defeat though. But the evidence on the spot where Voldemort disappeared… Now that indicates that the re-embodiment spell itself was undone. So the only question left to answer is, how did that come about? And I think you're the only one who can tell us that."

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed. "This is the part that I want to go no further, but I reckon I have to tell you because it may be the last piece left in the puzzle. I didn't give the entire spell earlier. The first part of it was _Me porricio._"

"I sacrifice myself," Croaker translated almost to himself.

"Yes."

"But you didn't give up your life. Would this be an indication that the spell didn't work after all?"

"I don't know whether both parts of it worked, although now that I've heard all this, I'm inclined to think they did. The sacrifice portion worked, though. It was never my life. It was my magical powers. I have none now."

*

The smell of roast chicken filled the kitchen, causing Harry's mouth to water in spite of his exhaustion as he collapsed into his place at the table. It was the first evening in a month he wasn't having to settle for reheated leftovers at midnight, and he fully intended to enjoy it before heading off to bed. 

He could hardly believe the interrogation--he couldn't think of it as anything more--by the Department of Mysteries had taken place so long ago, but it had given him a start only today to realise October was already half gone. So far nothing had come of that incident, which he remembered partially, in spite of the memory charm that Croaker had placed on him at the end of the meeting. He remembered that it had occurred, and he recalled his feelings at the time; he just couldn't recall specific details of what had been discussed, especially where the Ministry's involvement was concerned. There hadn't yet been an official announcement of the war's end, but on the other hand, no one new seemed to be aware of Harry's secret.

In the meantime, he'd been snowed under at work. In the past week he'd barely been at the Burrow long enough for a few hours' fitful sleep before the crack of dawn, when he had to leave for the office again. 

He ran his thumb along the stack of letters sitting by his plate at the table, thinking guiltily that he'd been remiss in writing to Ginny again, but at least this time, it wasn't because he was unable to find the words to express himself. It was a simple question of not enough hours in the day. He recognised her handwriting on the first letter in the pile. He hadn't even had time to read it yet, let alone reply. He'd have taken it to work with him to read in a spare moment, but he wanted to take the time to read it over slowly, to savour each word, and he wanted to be in private when he did so. It was easier to pretend she was there with him that way.

Harry ate his supper in silence and as quickly he could without being impolite. Mrs Weasley was too busy fussing over her husband to notice. "Now Arthur, you be sure to tell them when you go back to the Ministry tomorrow that you won't be up to any more raids." 

Mr Weasley was still walking with a noticeable limp, and Harry knew there had to be more to it than a simple broken leg, as long as the healing process was taking, but he didn't want to ask. There was a palpable veil of secrecy surrounding the incident, as far as Harry could tell. It was difficult for him to determine just what the nature of the secret was, however, since he was rarely at the Burrow for any length of time these days.

"You really ought to get someone younger into the office with you to handle that sort of thing," Mrs Weasley fretted.

"Come off it, Mum," Bill commented. "Dad's not as old as all that."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, son," said Mr Weasley, while his wife glared at their eldest son.

"Although I suppose there's enough of us members of the Order with little enough to do, if ever you need back-up…" Bill was patently tired of waiting around to find out whether the Order needed his services anymore. He was itching to return to Egypt. 

Sirius had already moved on. His only problem was his inability to find anyone in the wizarding world willing to hire him, in spite of the fact this his appearance was much less menacing now as a result of several weeks' worth of access to hot water and Mrs Weasley's hearty cooking. The Rita Skeeter article was partly to blame for that, but not entirely. Too many business people in the wizarding world had their finances caught up in the rebuilding effort and couldn't afford to hire extra help. Much of the rebuilding was being done with volunteer help, but shops still had to replace their stock. Harry was glad for Sirius' sake that they'd convinced him to keep the money the Ministry had offered him. If he was careful, he might be able to live quietly on that money for a while, combined with what he already had in his Gringott's vault.

Harry swallowed the last of his supper and stood, picking up his stack of letter. "If you don't mind, I think I'll head up to bed now," he said.

"Oh, won't you have any pudding, Harry?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"No thanks, really, everything was delicious, but I couldn't eat another bite. I'm just dead tired is all."

"They're working you much too hard, dear."

"Not a whole lot I can do about that, Mrs Weasley. Good night everyone!"

As he headed up the stairs towards Ron's room, he found he was suddenly wide awake. He had a whole pile of letters from Ginny to get through, and he was going to reply tonight. He reached the top storey, threw himself onto the bed and tore open the first envelope.

__

Dear Harry,

Thanks for sending me your invisibility cloak and your map of the school. You said it helps to keep yourself occupied, so that's what I've been doing. It's a special project, and I can't go into details right now, but as soon as I'm done, I'm sure you'll hear all about it. I can tell you that I've been learning all sorts of new things and corresponding with just about everyone.

As you can probably tell, it's taken me a while to reply to your last letter. I'm sorry about that, but there was just a bit more in the package you sent me than I was expecting. 

Harry knew she was referring to the dress robes from Madam Malkin's shop. Before things had got too mad at the office, he'd had a chance to nip out on his lunch hour and pick up the robes he'd had laid aside for Ginny, as well as order a new set of dress robes for himself. He'd waited to send Ginny her robes, as he hadn't been certain what her reaction would be. However when she'd owled him to inquire about the invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map, he'd thought it the ideal occasion to send along the dress robes as well.

__

You know you really shouldn't have spent all that money on me. I could have made do with Transfiguring or borrowing something. But I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful, either. I'll thank you properly the next time I see you. Unfortunately, that isn't likely to be before the ball itself. I wish things could be otherwise. I miss you so much. You're right about keeping busy. It does help. Just not enough. Not like seeing you would. I love you,

Ginny

Harry went back to the top and read Ginny's letter over again, stopping at the point where she apologised for taking so long to reply. He looked at the date. It was a week old. Panicking, he looked through the rest of the envelopes, noting with relief that none of them was red. He knew it was silly, because a real Howler would have exploded long before now. Still, it would be best if he got through these and wrote a reply before morning, or else he just might find a red envelope at the breakfast table.

He moved on to the next letter.

__

Dear Harry,

How are things going at the Ministry? I imagine they're busy these days. Auror training is still going well. We've been doing strategic planning exercises and I'm top of my class at that. Would love to see Hermione's face when I tell her. Less than a month to go and I'll be finished. Can hardly wait. I had a bit of an odd letter from Ginny the other day. She was going on about some project she's been working on and asking if I had any Filibuster Fireworks or Dungbombs left over from Hogwarts. I think she's gone mental. Do you think I was wrong to send her what I had? Write back and let me know.

Ron

Scratching his head, Harry moved on to the next letter in the stack. Scanning down, he recognised Remus' signature at the bottom.

__

Dear Harry,

I hope everything is going well for you. I was really surprised the other day when I got a letter from your girlfriend and I was wondering if you knew anything about it. She seems to have a bit of an oddball for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. I don't know what Professor McGonagall was thinking. Why would anyone be teaching about the effects of explosions on building structures?

The letter went on, but Harry laid it aside for now. Something funny was going on here. Ginny was definitely up to something, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Not that he had any idea what she was doing… The next letter from his godfather proved to be even more puzzling. 

__

Dear Harry,

I hope all is well with you and with the Weasleys. I know you'll pass along my thanks to Molly and Arthur for opening their home to me last month. I also hope if there's ever anything you need to talk about, man to man, you wouldn't hesitate to discuss it with me. Your girlfriend wrote to me today and was asking about enhancement charms, you see. I can only hope I'm jumping to the wrong conclusions here, but I have to ask you. She didn't have you personally in mind when she asked me that, did she? 

Harry was very glad he'd chosen to read his post in private. He felt as if his face was on fire. What on earth was Ginny getting up to that she had to ask Sirius about enhancement charm, of all things? He wasn't even sure he wanted to read any more. He laid Sirius' letter aside, deciding he might be better off knowing the worst. The next letter was from Hermione, and it was longer than the others. He almost dreaded finding out what she had to say.

__

Dear Harry,

I hope work is going well for you. I just can't imagine all the fun you're having doing research. You've got to be learning the most interesting things. Harry, I don't want to worry you needlessly, but I'm starting to be a bit concerned about Ginny. She's got some sort of project she's been working on, and she's become obsessed with it. She's been neglecting her studies to work on it, and she's even taken to lying to me, if you can believe that. You see, she told me it was homework for her Muggle Studies class, but I've checked with her teacher, who assured me she has not been teaching them about Muggle demolition techniques or incendiary devices. Do you know anything about this?

Meanwhile work here is going well. The library is in better shape than it's ever been in with the reorganising I've been doing. Staff meetings have become tiresome. Professor Snape keeps insisting someone was taking Potions ingredients from his private stores again. He went as far as to say that if you were still at school, he'd be willing to bet his last Galleon that you were sneaking about under your invisibility cloak and taking them. He was looking straight at me when he said it, as well. It was very embarrassing.

Oh, and back to Ginny. What was in that package you sent her last week? She didn't want to show me any of what you'd sent her, but I caught a glimpse of something golden, and she finally caved in and showed me the dress robes you bought for her. I have to say, I don't think I've seen anything more beautiful, but don't you think they're a bit revealing? I hope for your sake that Ginny's mum never sees them. She'd never let you within ten miles of each other.

Love from,

Hermione

Harry set the letters aside, and ran his hands over his face, while he tried to work out what was going on. Whatever it was, Harry suspected that it was going to make any prank the twins ever pulled look downright innocent. He was going to have to write to Ginny and ask, he realised. But that solution was problematic in and of itself now, since he hadn't written to her in over a week. He knew she wasn't going to be too pleased with him for that reason. He was going to have to be careful to make sure she didn't turn her wrath loose on him. In fact, he would have suspected that was what this whole "project" was about, except for the fact that she'd mentioned it in her first letter of a week ago.

He rummaged though his trunk until he'd produced some parchment, ink and a quill, but he hadn't got very far into his letter when there was a knock at the door. It proved to be Mr Weasley, and Harry felt sorry that he'd had to hobble up five flights of stairs to the top of the house on his bad leg. 

"Sorry to disturb you, Harry," he commented, "but I couldn't help noticing you had a letter from Ginny there. She wouldn't have mentioned getting the box-in-the-jack she asked for, did she?"

"Sorry?" said Harry, confused. "Did you mean a jack-in-the-box?"

"Yes, that must be it. At any rate, she asked me to send her the one I had out in my shed. Did she mention getting it?"

"Erm, no, I don't think she did. But then this letter was sent a week ago. I haven't had anything more recent than that."

"All right then. If you're writing back, would you mind asking her for me if she got it all right?"

"Of course."

Mr Weasley said good night, and Harry went back to apologising profusely for not replying sooner, but now he had another thing to puzzle over. It was late indeed before Harry finished his letter and sent Hedwig off towards Hogwarts with it.

It was still dark out when Harry rose and got dressed for work the following morning. He blinked sleepily as he entered the light of the kitchen. Mrs Weasley had already started breakfast, judging by the large pot of porridge bubbling on the stove. She had to be cooking an extra-large breakfast to sustain her husband on his first day back at the Ministry.

Harry poured hot water into the tea pot and set the leaves in it to steep. While he was waiting, he idly picked up the copy of the morning's _Daily Prophet, _which was lying on the table. Upon seeing the headline, his eyes widened and he had to sit down.

__

Suspected Death Eater Attack in Hogsmeade the headline screamed. _The town of Hogsmeade suffered quite a rude awakening late last night as Zonko's joke shop suffered a mysterious explosion. Although no suspects were seen, sources from the Ministry of Magic fear the attack was the work of the children of Death Eaters since the source of the explosion was apparently Dungbombs and Filibuster Fireworks. The Department of Mysteries is said to be working on the significance of the Muggle device which was found on the scene. It is feared that the Box of Jack, pictured below, could have been used to enchant the victims, as it produces an eerie, trance-inducing noise…_

Harry stopped reading, and looked at the picture that accompanied the article. It showed the remains of a leering clown's head bobbing on the end of a twisted spring. Wisps of smoke were coming off the entire thing. 

Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably, as the pieces fell into place at last. Ginny had mentioned in earlier letters that the twins had been taking great glee in sending her little reminders that they'd caught her and Harry under compromising circumstances the night before she'd left for school. He also remembered the delight they'd taken in humiliating both him and Ginny that same evening. This had to be a form of revenge. There was no other explanation for it. It wouldn't be the first time Ginny had resorted to such means, either. She'd done something similar, albeit on a smaller scale, on his seventeenth birthday, and with much less provocation.

His musings were interrupted by Mrs Weasley's arrival in the kitchen. "Oh, good morning, Harry dear," she greeted distractedly as she went to stir the porridge. "It's just terrible, isn't it? Just when everyone believes it might all be over…"

Harry had been about to hide the newspaper, but Mrs Weasley had obviously already seen it. He might have comforted her with the knowledge that no Death Eaters had been behind the Zonko's attack, but he didn't think she'd be very pleased to learn her own daughter was the true culprit. Plus she might ask Harry some tricky questions about why Ginny would want revenge on her brothers in the first place. 

Mrs Weasley placed a bowl of porridge in front of Harry. "Oh, and this came for you while I was out gathering the eggs." She handed him a burnt-looking envelope, which had a rather suspicious smell about it. "It looks to be from the twins," she added. She would have been certain to recognise her own sons' writing, after all.

Harry was fairly sure he didn't want to open this letter at the breakfast table, but curiosity was getting the better of him. Plus Mrs Weasley was looking at him expectantly, her lower lip quivering slightly and betraying her worry about her boys. He reluctantly slit the envelope, releasing a noxious cloud of purplish smoke into the kitchen. It took a few moments for him to recover from his coughing fit and his eyes to stop watering before he could read what the twins had to say.

__

Dear Mum, the letter began, giving Harry quite a start. He looked at the envelope once more and saw that it had been indeed addressed to him. Not only that, he could see slight variations in the handwriting on alternate sentences at the beginning of the letter, as if the twins had taken turns in composing it.

__

Dear Mum, 

We've been thinking… We've had something on our minds for a while, and we really think you ought to know about it. We caught Harry and Ginny in… Well we really can't say where we found them, now can we, George? But they were… We shouldn't say what they were doing, either, Fred. But you would think that by the age of seventeen, Ginny would know how to do up her buttons properly…

Here the letter cut off abruptly, only to continue in an entirely different vein. There was a curious-looking blackened space between the two sections of the letter.

__

Harry, mate, only joking. You know we don't care what you and Ginny, our wonderful, clever sister, get up to. Could you please tell her we were only joking, and that we only wanted to have a little fun? For some reason she can't seem to take a joke, although you would think after all these years she would have learned how to by now. Anyway, you ought to watch out for her. She can be somewhat dangerous when she gets mad, so take it from us and be careful not to piss her off.

Mrs Weasley was watching Harry closely, and he knew she was waiting for word that her sons were all right. Harry wasn't quite sure how to begin to explain that this was all an elaborate joke, but he knew he had to say something to set her mind at ease.

Harry was about to launch into an explanation, when the back door suddenly burst open. Both Harry and Mrs Weasley turned in alarm to see Pauline standing there, red-faced and her blonde hair in wild disarray. At the same time, Mr Weasley limped into the kitchen dressed in an old pair of robes, but evidently ready to go in to the Ministry. Harry thought he looked rather tired, and the day was only beginning.

"Pauline!" Mrs Weasley gasped, taking in the girl's wild-eyed expression. "What on earth…"

"I am going to _murder_ your sons, Mrs Weasley," she announced in a very loud, agitated voice. "Then," she added, pointing to Harry, "I'm going to go after your girlfriend."

"What's happened?" asked Mrs Weasley anxiously. "Is everything all right?" Harry's immediate thought was that this was both a very stupid and very brave thing for Mrs Weasley to ask, especially when Pauline had just announced she was about to start slaughtering Weasleys left and right.

"ALL RIGHT? Your daughter and your sons are responsible for the complete annihilation of MY shop, and you ask if everything's all right?" Pauline roared, making the tea cups and saucers rattle on the shelves. "Do you know… know…" And Pauline suddenly burst into tears and continued on in an extremely high pitched voice, in which no one except maybe a dog could understand. Harry was reminded of Moaning Myrtle.

"There, there dear," said Mrs Weasley, putting an arm around the girl and guiding her to a chair, while motioning for Mr Weasley to pour out a cup of tea.

"All my hard work….all of it, all because those stupid bast—" A hiccup cut her off. "All because they played some stupid joke on Ginny, who went mad and… and.."

"What did Ginny do?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"She blew up Zonkos! My Zonko's! It's gone! Completely destroyed! All because those wretched brats… Why can't they just be like a normal family and just not speak to each other for years?"

"Are you saying that the whole thing in the newspaper… About Zonko's and a possible Death Eater attack…" began Mrs Weasley.

"Death Eaters? No, it was those miserable, immature, absolutely idiotic…"

"They did this?" Mrs Weasley took the _Daily Prophet _from Harry and handed it to Pauline.

"Death Eaters!" Pauline muttered, glancing over the article. "Typical! After all the money I poured into taking out adverts in every major wizarding newspaper, we end up on the front page after being blown up! I'm going to kill them!" Pauline threw the paper down on the table.

"Ginny? And the twins? But how… And why?" Mrs Weasley seemed to be in quite a state herself.

Pauline, noticing her reaction, suddenly paled. "Oh, Mrs Weasley! I'm so sorry! I really didn't mean…. Well, yes I did, but I'm so sorry… You are such a wonderful person, you both are," she added, nodding to Mr Weasley. "But how people as nice as you both are, managed to have…have…those monsters….oh, I'm sorry!"

"Listen," said Mr Weasley, "how do we even know Ginny was involved?"

"Oh, I know all right," said Pauline. "She's the one who gave me _this_!" She picked up the newspaper and thrust it under Mr Weasley's nose. Harry saw him take a good look at the picture and go pale. Fortunately for everyone, Pauline was in too much of a state to take notice. "Ginny gave that… that jack-in-the-box to me yesterday and warned me to take cover if the twins did anything with it. I'm sure that whatever the twins did to her, they fully deserved to have revenge taken. It just shouldn't have been taken on my shop! This does not excuse Ginny in the least!"

"No, of course it doesn't," agreed Mrs Weasley.

Pauline nodded once firmly, and shakily poured herself a cup of tea, completely ignoring the cup that Mr Weasley had already served her, sweetening it liberally with sugar. "Damn straight!"

"Under normal circumstances I'd say we ought to be very proud of her, actually," commented Mr Weasley. "Rigging up a device like that so it wouldn't do any structural damage shows quite an advanced knowledge of potions and charms…" He trailed off, quailing under his wife's glare.

"But why did she have to take it out on MY SHOP!" Pauline shot back. "All that hard work…" It looked as if tears were threatening once more. "I'm sorry, it's just that I have no place to stay. The smell… It's horrible…"

"Well, you're going to stay here, of course," said Mrs Weasley firmly. "There's no point in your suffering. The boys can clean up the place. It's only right after all. A little hard work never did anybody any harm. And tomorrow morning we can both go up there and give them a piece of our minds. Then we'll drop in on Ginny at school."

Pauline brought her emotions under control again. "Yes, tomorrow is another day, isn't it? But I'm not going to stop there," she went on, her voice deadly calm now. "Ginny had to have help with this. She couldn't have done anything this elaborate on her own. And when I find out who else had a hand in this, I will make them pay."

Harry and Mr Weasley exchanged an uncomfortable look, and the older man seemed to slump down in his seat slightly.

Looking at his watch, Harry realised he should have been at the office by now. He gulped down the last of his porridge, but before he activated his Portkey, he ran up to Ron's room and hid all the letters he'd received over the last week. There was no sense in taking any chances that Pauline would find them. For once it seemed like a relief to escape to the office.

To Be Continued…

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A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all the girls at Towerstock, since they had to put up with Marian and me giggling till about four in the morning while we came up with the letters. Additional thanks go to Firebolt909 for making sure I had her in character. Thanks to everyone who continues to support me though reviews.


	13. Chapter 13

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Thirteen

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Dear Ginny,

I'm sorry to hear about Hogsmeade visits being definitely cancelled until after the Christmas holidays, but I'm not mad at you. I can't be. I'm unhappy about missing the chance to see you sooner, but even if there had been a Hogsmeade weekend upcoming, I'm not sure I'd be able to take the time off work and come. I had to work last Saturday, and it looks as if I'll be working this Saturday as well. The office is as mad as ever, but it keeps me busy. Hill sent me to take notes on a case, citing precedents the other day, and I panicked and wrote down absolutely everything. Of course, you know who had to make a comment on it. But it was all right in the end. Hill said it was normal for someone starting out to make mistakes like that, and that I'd learn, or get writer's cramp. Mrs Mutt told me St John did the same thing for the first several cases he was assigned. She also said it took the department a lot longer before they started giving him more than just filing to do.

Ginny smiled to herself. It had to be a good thing if they were giving Harry more responsibility at work, and perhaps he'd find things less tiresome, if more challenging.

It's about two months now till the Christmas holiday, Ginny. We're almost halfway there. In a way time has passed quickly and in a way it hasn't. I wish I could see you sooner. I wish I could talk to you. Hear your voice. It's nice to get letters from you. More than nice. It's the best part of my day if I get a letter from you. But… This is probably going to sound stupid, but if I could hear your voice, you'd be that much more real to me. Do you know what I mean? Do you ever feel like, since we can't see each other, you wonder if I still exist? If I could see you, touch you, kiss you it would be even better. I'd know, know it wasn't all a dream. It would be real. Solid. Oh God, how am I going to survive until Christmas? Damn, Ginny, I have to go. My lunch hour is over, and it's already taken longer for me to write this than I've got time for, and I don't want any gits (or should I use Mrs Mutt's word for him?) getting their hands on it, if you know who I mean. I miss you so much, and I love you.

Harry

Ginny's eyes stung as she read Harry's letter over again. In spite of what he'd said to her about not being angry with her about the prospect of no Hogsmeade weekends, she couldn't help but feel guilty. It was her fault. Zonko's might have opened before Christmas, but her prank on her stupid brothers had set them back. She hadn't caused any structural damage to the building--she'd been very careful that she wouldn't--but she hadn't realised that the odour would penetrate every single item of the stock. 

She hadn't even known they'd got as far as replenishing their stock until it was too late. Pauline had let her know about that, though, in no uncertain terms. And her mother. She shuddered. She still got a headache when she thought of her mother telling her off. At least her mother had never found out the exact nature of what the twins had done to incur her wrath. It was one small blessing in this whole mess.

Not that her mother hadn't wanted to know what had driven Ginny to such an extreme. The twins had come to her rescue there and made up some tale about them pulling endless pranks on Ginny by sending her exploding quills, disappearing ink, and self-igniting parchment so that Ginny had constantly had to redo her school work. After six weeks, according to their story, she'd come to the end of her rope and taken her revenge. Since this was Ginny's last year of school, and her future dependent on her NEWT results, this story had almost been enough to make Ginny's mother want to hex the twins herself, but the twins had even managed to partially rationalise their behaviour by telling her they were merely testing new products.

It was ironic, Ginny thought to herself, that Harry had begun to work weekends, since she had as well. She'd received a unique detention, in that she had to go down to Zonko's and help the twins sort out the mess her bomb had created. The stench had been cleaned out of the shop and living quarters, enough for Pauline to be able to move back in, in any case (although Ginny couldn't be too sure if George had been allowed back yet), but each and every item which had been purchased for the eventual reopening had to be cleaned individually. The work was tedious, but Ginny had to admit she deserved everything she got.

It wasn't often that her brothers pushed her to such extremes. She'd been inclined to take revenge on them for their stupidity in the past, such as on Harry's seventeenth birthday when they'd acted like such idiots upon finding her and Harry in her dad's shed, but she'd never taken it too far before. If she were perfectly honest with herself, this time she had gone too far. She'd certainly never expected the _Daily Prophet_ to jump to the conclusion that Death Eaters were attacking. Fortunately, the twins had contacted the paper and explained that it had all been a misunderstanding, and one of their experimental joke items had worked a bit better than expected. Ginny supposed that their covering for her to the general public, as well as to their mother, had been their form of a peace offering.

She sat back and considered why she'd gone to such extremes this time, but she couldn't come up with any clear answers. She supposed part of it had to do with missing Harry so much. She understood what he was talking about in his letter. A piece of parchment was a poor substitute for a warm embrace, but it was all she had. 

Plus she was frustrated. The research with Hermione had not been going well. The translation was slow and dull, not to mention disturbing at times, and Hermione was turning up nothing useful either. From time to time, the girls' hopes would be raised by something Hermione had found in one book or another, only to have them dashed once more when the information turned out to be worthless. In the entire history of the wizarding world, or at least as far back as the information contained in Hogwarts library stretched, there hadn't been a single case of a witch or wizard giving up his powers voluntarily. Even cases where powers had been lost by accident were rare, and no one had ever successfully had his powers restored once they were lost. On the few occasions where such a thing had been attempted, the results had invariably been gruesome.

Ginny sighed and put Harry's letter away. Their only hope now seemed to be the translation, so she'd best get back to work on it. She only gave a fleeting thought to the amount of homework she was neglecting so she could work on this. Between her detentions at Zonko's and this project her studies had become low on her list of priorities, something she'd been successfully keeping from Hermione for the most part. Once she had this translation finished, she was going to have her work cut out for her playing catch-up with her classes. At least she wouldn't have to waste her time on prefects' meetings any more--she'd lost her prefect's badge as a result of the Zonko's prank. The only bright spot in the matter was the fact the she'd be able to allow this translation to double for her term project in her Ancient Runes class.

The Gryffindor common room was fairly noisy this evening with younger students having finished their homework and relaxing, but six years in this environment had taught Ginny how to tune out the distraction as she settled down to work. She went at it steadily for a while when she came upon it again. More references to necromancy. A shot of cold spiked through her. She was liking this less and less. Upon reflection, it might be better to show this to Hermione. She hadn't said anything to the older girl so far, but now it seemed that Ginny's suspicions were confirmed. This book definitely contained Dark Arts spells.

Ginny pushed back from the table where she'd been working, and looked at her watch. It was past eight, and the library was closed. Hermione had probably gone back to her rooms by now, and Ginny didn't know the password into the staff wing. She was going to have to hope some sympathetic staff member was still hanging about the staff room. Anyone but Snape would do, really, as long as she didn't run into Filch or Mrs Norris along the way.

Luck was with Ginny for once, as Hermione herself was in the staff room when she reached it. "Thank goodness," Ginny said. "I've got something I need to show you."

"It's just as well, because I think we need to have a talk," Hermione replied. "Come on."

Hermione led the way back to her rooms. Ginny was thankful Hermione had agreed to see her so readily. Hermione was another one who hadn't been very impressed with Ginny's revenge on the twins, even if she did know the true story behind it. Following her friend into the sitting room, Ginny noticed sitting out on the desk some parchment, what looked like the beginnings of a letter on it in Hermione's precise script. Next to it were a quill and bottle of ink.

"I hate to admit it," Hermione began, "but I think I'm going to have to give up on Hogwarts library. I've been through _everything_ now, literally, and there's nothing."

"You haven't been through all the runic texts, have you?"

"Well, no, but I can't go through those quickly. We can take those on, and we will, but I wanted your opinion on something first."

"Of course. What is it?"

"I want to write to Viktor Krum and ask him if he knows of anything that might be at Durmstrang."

"Are you sure, Hermione? Harry doesn't want anyone to know about…"

"Oh, I'm not planning on giving Viktor details about Harry. I can come up with a good enough excuse why I'm interested in the subject. I only want to ask him if he's ever heard of any cases where a wizard had lost his powers and got them back. I'm sure Durmstrang has books we haven't got here at Hogwarts."

Ginny felt that cold shiver pass through her once again. "You mean Dark Arts books."

"Listen, I know Durmstrang had a reputation under Karkaroff, but that doesn't mean the entire school has always been a hotbed of the Dark Arts. And we know Viktor's all right, don't we?"

"Hermione, what would you do if you discovered a way to restore Harry's powers to him but it was Dark Arts? Would you still use it?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know. I suppose it would depend on how dark the means was. I mean if it involved having to kill someone else, then obviously I wouldn't even consider it. Why do you ask?"

"It's this book I've been translating. I keep coming across references to things in it I don't like. There's been nothing concrete in it so far, but… I don't like it. I think it's a Dark Arts text."

"Oh dear."

"What are we going to do, Hermione? What if the answer is in here, and it involves something terrible? Not the sacrifice of another human, but… I don't know, something partly evil but justifiable."

Hermione reflected for a moment. "If Harry knew what we were up to, I think he'd say no. He wouldn't want us to do it."

"Yes, but that's the thing. He doesn't know what we're doing, and he wouldn't have to."

"He'd want to know if you were going to use Dark Arts on him," Hermione warned. "Just what are you getting at? Have you actually found something?"

"No, I'm just speculating. I guess what I'm doing is wondering how far we'd go for him, you know? Not to the extent of killing someone else--of course not--because he'd hate us if we did something like that, and it's just wrong. But… Well Harry's spell involved a sacrifice… What if whatever it takes to restore his powers also involved a sacrifice? Something personal. What would you do then?"

"I suppose it would depend on what it was. You'd have to ask yourself if Harry values his magical powers more than he'd value whatever was being given up."

Ginny fell silent as she thought about this. What wouldn't she give up for him? She'd give up her life if it would make him happy… But would Harry want her to? And what if the choice wasn't so extreme? That would make the decision even more difficult, wouldn't it? And the question of even using the Dark Arts still remained unanswered. She knew in her heart, he wouldn't like it if he knew… And would it be right to keep something like that from him? She just didn't know.

*

On a certain level Harry was aware he was dreaming. He had to be. There was no other explanation for it. Why else would he be standing in front of a cheering crowd on a raised platform in front of the Ministry of Magic with the Minister for Magic herself? He looked around him nervously, wondering what he was doing there, and in his dress robes, no less, he realised, looking down. But what he most wanted to know was why was he here by himself? For he was standing here alone with the Minister. If he was here to be honoured for something, he wanted his friends here with him.

He peered into the crowd, looking for a familiar face, but saw nothing beyond a myriad of colours. Wizarding society seemed to have turned out in force to see whatever it was they'd come to see, and it looked as if everyone had donned his best robes for the occasion, reinforcing Harry's impression that he was somehow the guest of honour on this occasion.

But if that was the case, where were the Weasleys? Where were Ron and Hermione? Sirius and Remus? Where was Ginny? For he was overcome now with a desperate need to see her. As if in answer to his unvoiced wish, he picked her out of the crowd suddenly. She was making her way towards him, parting the sea of people, her vivid hair setting her apart from the others, the golden fabric of her robes seeming to cast a faint glow around her.

Why wasn't she up here with him? "Ginny!" he cried, but his voice was drowned by the noise the crowd was making. "Ginny!" he tried again, but to little avail. He looked around him for a way off the platform but didn't see one. He took a step towards the edge.

"Where do you think you're going?" a voice hissed in his ear, as a hand grabbed his arm cruelly. "You're ruining a perfectly good moment for the photographers."

Harry turned in surprise towards the Minister, who had just spoken, to find Gilderoy Lockhart leering down at him. Unconsciously Harry reached for his wand, but it didn't seem to be in his pocket. "What's your problem, Potter?" Lockhart went on. "Afraid they'll all discover your little secret?"

Harry didn't have time for this. He had to get to Ginny. Wrenching his arm from Lockhart's grasp, he ran for the edge of the platform, heedless of the height it stood off the street below, not caring really, and leapt off. 

Somehow the crowd caught him and helped him down. He could see Ginny at some distance from him, shimmering amidst strangers' faces, but the crowd seemed to close in on him creating a wall so that the more he tried to push his way through, the farther from her he got. Desperately, he began to shove past people, not caring if it was rude and ignoring the nasty remarks they tossed in his direction. He had to get to Ginny, he had too…

But the more he struggled, the further away she got…

Harry woke up, heart pounding, and shook off the remaining tatters of his dream. It was still rather dark in the room. He'd become used to getting up early, but today, he remembered, he didn't have to. He wouldn't be going in to the Ministry today. Not to work at least. Not because it was Saturday, and not because it was Halloween, but because today had been declared a holiday in the wizarding world. He knew now why he'd been having that nightmare. Some of it, in any case, would likely be coming true.

It had begun earlier in the week when he'd heard a rumour about some major announcement the Minister for Magic (thankfully not Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry reminded himself) was planning on making. That had happened two days ago when today's celebrations had been officially announced, and Harry's presence had been requested by the Minister herself. Apparently the Department of Mysteries had been investigating and had concluded in its report to the Minister that Voldemort had indeed been defeated the previous summer. And there was no chance he'd be coming back.

Harry would have bypassed today altogether, but he hadn't been given a choice in the matter. People would be gathering in front of the Ministry today, and it would look rather odd if the guest of honour didn't turn up. 

It was going to be painful to stand in front of everyone and pretend everything was all right. "Oh yes, I defeated Voldemort. All in a day's work, really. It was nothing."

He knew he was going to get some sort of reward he didn't want--that was how these things worked--but whatever they wanted to bestow on him, it wasn't going to bring back Hagrid, Charlie or Dumbledore, or anyone else who had lost his life in the struggle. It wasn't going to make time move any faster between now and next June. It wasn't going to bring his powers back.

He'd been working hard at accepting the fact that he was no longer magical, but some days the situation could still rankle more than others. It looked as if today was going to be one of them. He sighed heavily wishing that by some miracle Ginny would be present at the celebration today--he was going to need her reassuring presence--but he knew there wasn't much chance of that happening. As part of her punishment for the Zonko's prank, she'd not been allowed to attend.

Harry rolled over and pulled the blankets more closely around him. He didn't have to be up so early for once; he might as well take advantage of that and sleep in. Among other things it would this day come to an end sooner. But sleep wouldn't come. In its place came images of those who had not survived the conflict. Some of the faces were vague recollections of student he'd barely known, but nonetheless to their families, the loss would be a gaping wound, one which would perhaps heal in time, but which would forever leave a scar.

Then there were those he'd actually known, whose loss cut all the more keenly for that reason, people who had been the closest thing to a family he'd ever had. Perhaps sharpest on this day was the pain of Dumbledore's death. Harry hadn't had the time to take it in when it had happened, but the directionless sense of emptiness came crashing in on him now, and he had to bury his face in the pillow. 

__

They, he thought through the tears he tried to hold back, they should be the ones honoured today. For what had he done? Of course he'd defeated Voldemort, but wouldn't anyone, having the means, have done the same in his place?

A knock at the door made him raise his head. "Harry, dear, are you awake?"

Why did Mrs Weasley want to wake him up this early in the morning? Only last night she'd told him he needed to get more rest. Swiping at his eyes, and fumbling for his glasses, he called out, "Just a moment. I've only just woken up." He hoped that last statement would be sufficient to explain the roughness in his voice.

"You ought to be getting dressed soon if we don't want to be late."

Late? The morning couldn't be that far advanced if it was so dark out. Harry reached for his watch and looked at it. It read just past ten in the morning. "I'll be right along," he called panicking just a bit. "I didn't realise it was so late."

Mrs Weasley had to have picked up on the off-note in his voice; it was the only way to explain her next action. "Are you sure everything's all right, dear?"

"Yes, it's fine."

He'd barely got the words out, and she was already in the room, striding matter-of-factly across the floor to Harry's bed. Harry swallowed as she peered closely at his face through the gloom. "Don't tell me everything's fine, Harry. I can see in your face that it isn't. Look at me." Harry didn't particularly want to obey, but something inside him made him respond to her wishes. "Now what's the problem? Have you had a letter from Sirius?"

"No, nothing like that. It's… it's stupid really."

Mrs Weasley sat down on the edge of the bed. "It can't be stupid if it's made you this upset."

"It _is_ stupid. This whole day is stupid."

"Why is this day stupid? This day is for you."

"That's exactly why it's stupid. They're making a great deal out of everything, out of _me_, and I didn't ask for it. They're going to try and reward me, and I don't want that, either. Why would I want that? There are people who need that sort of thing more than I do. And it won't bring anyone back."

Mrs Weasley leaned back and seemed to consider Harry's words. "Who do you want back, dear?"

"Hagrid, Professor Dumbledore, my parents… everyone."

"Charlie?" she whispered.

Harry was glad she'd said it because he'd been thinking it and wasn't sure if he ought to mention it. He nodded.

"It's all right to talk about it," Mrs Weasley said quietly.

Harry nodded again. "If anyone deserves recognition, it's them, not me. Not that they're in any position to receive anything for it," he added bitterly, "but has anyone spared them so much as a thought?"

"But Harry, don't you think you deserve something, too? Some recognition for your sacrifice?"

"No," he grated. "No one is to know about that."

"I know dear, but…"

"Why should I deserve anything when anyone would have done the same in my place?"

Mrs Weasley gaped at him for a moment. "Harry, listen to what you're saying. You don't really believe that, do you?"

Somewhere deep inside him, he knew she was right. He just wasn't ready to admit it yet. "Well, I don't suppose Malfoy…" He broke off as she scowled at him for trying to turn this into a joke. "Anyone on our side would have," he protested, "if they'd known how to go about it."

Mrs Weasley was shaking her head. "Harry, I can't think of anyone who would have done what you did."

"Charlie would have. He saved Sirius at the cost of his own life. His _life_, not just his powers."

"Yes, he did. But it's not the same thing. He didn't know for months ahead of time that he'd have to do something like that. My son was strong, but I don't know that he was that strong. I don't know that anyone is. When he jumped in front of that curse, he acted without thinking. If he'd have stopped to think about it, he might still have done it, but there's no way of knowing. If someone had told him the day before what was going to happen, he might not have done it. Or he may have hesitated, knowing what was coming, and it would have been too late to do anything. It's human nature to put your own survival first. It wouldn't have made him any less than he was."

Harry could tell she was struggling to keep her voice from shaking as she said all this. It was difficult for him to keep his own eyes from stinging.

"Now that I think about it," she went on, "I can think of one other person who would have chosen as you have."

"Who?" Harry asked quietly.

"Albus Dumbledore."

"He's another one who won't be getting any recognition today." It was much easier for Harry to concentrate on feeling bitter rather than giving in to sadness and grief. "He died fighting against Voldemort, too."

"You can change that, Harry. You can make sure no one forgets what a great man he was. You'll be in a position to make sure all those who fought gain the recognition they deserve."

Harry nodded, reluctant to let himself see anything positive that might come out of today.

"Harry… Harry look at me. You have to know that what you did was great. And you did give your life for us in a way. I'm proud of what you've done and of the way you've grown up. You are a strong and good person. You show that every day."

"No…" he began, but he had to stop and swallow hard. He had to stop her before she had him crying once more. "No, I'm not. I'm not strong at all. I don't feel strong."

"That's part of what makes you special, Harry. You don't see. You don't let it go to your head…" She reached up and brushed his fringe back from his forehead, exposing his scar for a moment before it fell back into place. "You will always have a special place in my heart, not because you're Ron's friend, or because my daughter is in love with you, or even because you're the great Harry Potter. It's because somehow, deep down, in spite of the fact that you've got black hair, you are like another son to me. And no matter what happens, you always will be."

Harry could feel his lower lip trembling. He wished she would stop. Deep in his heart, he knew this was what he'd always wanted. A family. A mother. She'd even said he was like one of her own children in the past. But today he didn't think he could take it. He felt a tear slip out of the corner of his eye. 

The next thing he knew he was being enveloped in a motherly embrace. Mrs Weasley held him and rocked him, softly repeating all that while that he was her son, that he was worthy, until it became a mantra.

*

Harry sneaked a peak out from behind the velvet curtain, which had been rigged up at the back of a makeshift platform, to where he could see the crowd that had assembled in front of the Ministry building. As in his dream, _everyone_ seemed to have turned up in his best robes, and the colour showed up all the more brightly under the glowering pall of cloud that marked the day. Harry swallowed. That had only been a nightmare. There was no way Eugenia Smythe-Snepperton, who had replaced Cornelius Fudge as Minister for Magic, was suddenly going to Transfigure herself into Gilderoy Lockhart, he told himself firmly, and although there were several other important Ministry people scheduled to speak today, none of them was a former Hogwarts professor with a memory problem.

Besides, he'd have Ron and Hermione up on the platform with him today at least. He'd had to do a lot of arguing, but he'd finally convinced the official planners of this event to allow his friends to stand with him. "They've had as much to do with today as anything," he'd repeated. "I couldn't have done anything without them." Or Ginny for that matter, but then she wouldn't be able to come. 

Harry scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces. He spotted some of his former school-mates dotted here and there amidst the sea of strangers. There was also a group of black-robed Hogwarts students, all of whom looked to be sixth or seventh years. Harry recognised Colin Creevey when a camera flash caught his attention. To one side he caught a flash of red, and saw that the Weasleys had found a spot not too far from the front. They were standing together with Remus and Sirius, and people seemed to be allowing them a good deal of space. Being friends with a werewolf and a former prisoner would do that, Harry thought bitterly.

Mr Weasley still wasn't with them, however, and Harry found that surprising. Mr Weasley had disappeared not long after Harry had turned up in the kitchen for a late breakfast, saying something important had come up but offering no further explanations. Harry couldn't help but wonder what could be so important that he'd miss the beginning of the ceremony. It couldn't be Ministry business: every department was closed today.

He noticed that Bill and Percy seemed to be scanning the crowd as if they were looking for someone. Watching the other Weasleys he realised the rest of them were doing the same. They must be trying to keep an eye out for Mr Weasley, but Harry had no idea how they'd manage to spot him in the throng. Suddenly, he saw one twin nudge the other with his elbow and point toward the left. The other twin craned his neck and whispered to something to Mrs Weasley, who turned and began to wave frantically, although she was too small to be seen from very far off surrounded by her taller sons as she was. Now Bill was shouting and waving as well, and Harry turned to see what had caught their attention.

He caught a glimpse of a tall, balding man pushing his way through the mass of people, and he was followed by a smaller red-headed figure. Ginny. And if she was here, she was going to stand next to Harry. He wasn't going to have it any other way.

He didn't think about what he was doing. He pushed his way through the curtain, ignoring Ron's shout of, "Where do you think you're going?", and scrambled off the platform, not really caring that his dress robes got in the way. The assembled people gave way before him in their surprise to see him suddenly appear, but he ignored them. He was completely focused on getting to Ginny. He'd lost sight of her now that he was down on the same level as she was, but Mr Weasley was tall enough to keep an eye on. Repeating excuses, he shouldered his way through the crowd until he found himself face to face with Mr Weasley.

"Harry!" he said, taken aback. "You're not supposed to be down here."

Harry didn't look at Mr Weasley. He couldn't take his eyes off Ginny. It had been two long, dreadful months since he'd seen her, and he wasn't about to take his eyes off her now. He soon had to, however, for she'd flown into his arms not a second later. He tightened his grip on her, not wanting to let her go, ever, the knowledge that he'd have to eventually causing him to pull her even closer. He realised he must be crushing her by now, but it didn't matter. She was returning the hug just as fiercely.

"Oh God, I missed you," he whispered into her hair. "I could kiss you right now."

"Later," she whispered back, and he was surprised at how her quiet voice managed to penetrate the noise of the crowd.

"How?" he asked. "How did you get here? I didn't think you could come."

"Dad talked McGonagall into it. I can't stay too late, though. I have to be back by eleven."

Harry loosened his hold on Ginny just enough so that he could turn to where Mr Weasley was still standing. "Thank you," was all he could get out.

"We'd best find your mother," Mr Weasley was saying.

"I want her to stand with me today," Harry said. "She was part of this, too. As much as Ron and Hermione were."

Mr Weasley nodded once. "All right then."

Harry took Ginny's hand and led her back through the crowd, noting in passing that people were now peering at the pair of them with avid curiosity. He ignored them, as he pushed his way back to the platform. The Ministry officials did not look very pleased with him, but he ignored them as well. If it was supposed to be his day, then they could bloody well give in to his wishes. It wasn't as if he was asking for that much after all.

He glared at the lot of them, as he clambered back up onto the platform, before turning to give Ginny a hand up. No one said a word, and he pushed his way back through the curtain. 

"What was that all about?" demanded Ron, while Hermione's eyes went round. "Ginny! How did you manage…"

But there was no time for explanations. The ceremony was about to begin.

Harry was extremely grateful when it was all over. The speeches given by various Ministry officials had been long and boring, and Harry had found himself not paying a great deal of attention to them. He'd passed most of the time looking over the heads of the crowd at the leaden sky. The weather seemed determined not to co-operate with the intended mood of the day, but at least it wasn't raining. 

He hadn't particularly wanted to look at the sea of faces in front of him. Their avid gazes made him uncomfortable. It hadn't helped matters when he caught a glimpse of a figure with a long white beard dressed in dark blue robes towards the back of the crowd. He'd blinked a few times wondering if he'd seen a ghost, but when he looked again the figure had disappeared. After that he'd kept his eyes riveted on the space above everyone's heads.

He'd been glad at first that he hadn't been required to make any sort of speech, but now that it was all over, he wished he had. While the Minister for Magic had asked everyone observe several moments of silence for all those who had made the ultimate sacrifice at the beginning of the proceedings, it now seemed to Harry a mere nod for form's sake. He didn't know if he would have found the appropriate words, but he would have liked to have said something more about those who had given their lives in the struggle. 

It was time to go now, but the assembled masses didn't show any signs of leaving. It looked as if a gigantic party was in the offing, but Harry didn't feel in the mood to celebrate. He had to make a move though. Ginny was tugging at his hand, while Ron and Hermione were urging him to go down and join the rest of the Weasley family.

"We're all going to the Leaky Cauldron!" Fred announced, as Ginny led Harry over to her family.

"On you," added George to Harry, grinning wickedly.

Harry cringed inwardly. The Minister had forced ten thousand Galleons reward on him. He didn't want it, any more than he wanted season ticket to all the Quidditch matches in the League, which was apparently starting up again, late, but not too late for eager fans who hadn't had anything to celebrate in far too long. 

"Yes, of course," Harry said, not wanting to throw a wet blanket on things. He felt he owed this family for the rest of his life as it was. Treating them to a party if they wanted one was the least he could do.

Making their way to the opposite end of Diagon Alley was slow going indeed. Everyone seemed to want to shake Harry's hand, pat him on the back, offer thanks… The twins started out with their typical humour: "Make way for Harry Potter, the wizard who defeated of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Order of Merlin First Class, Member of the Dark Forces Defence League…" 

Harry knew they meant well, but he didn't particularly appreciate it on this occasion. The last time they'd done something like this, it was over something that was patently untrue. The same could not be said in this case. Mrs Weasley made them stop quickly enough.

Before they could make any sort of progress the rest of the family finally had to form a sort of guard around him, shielding him from the throng. They were maybe halfway to their goal, when their progress was impeded by yet another well-wisher, and this time the Weasleys didn't try to shuffle Harry past as quickly as they could.

Harry looked up and saw why immediately. It was the wizard with the dark blue robes he'd seen during the ceremony. Up close Harry could see that it wasn't Professor Dumbledore. The half-moon spectacles were missing as were the twinkling blue eyes, and his nose was much straighter. In spite of this, the general physical resemblance was striking enough that this could only be…

"Aberforth Dumbledore," he said, holding out his hand to Harry, who mutely shook the older man's hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Harry. My brother spoke of you often." 

Harry had no idea what to reply, so he went on shaking Aberforth Dumbledore's hand and nodding. He felt rather stupid.

"I know for a fact Albus would be very proud of you today," Aberforth went on.

Harry swallowed hard. He had to say something. "Your brother was a big part of my life," Harry blurted, feeling himself immediately begin to redden. Why couldn't he do this without making an ass out of himself?

"And you were to his."

"This… today," began Harry, gesturing around him. "It should all be for him, not for me."

Aberforth shook his head gravely. "Alas, I don't think he'd say the same thing." Then he smiled, and Harry saw his eyes twinkle, where they hadn't before. But for their colour, Harry would have sworn it was his former headmaster. He shook Harry's hand once more. "Enjoy your evening!" He smiled at the Weasleys and moved on. 

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron some time later, where arrangements had apparently been made ahead of time for a private dining room. Tom led them up a flight of stairs to a room, which looked as if it had been converted for the occasion. A large table bedecked with silver-domed platters dominated the room. In the far wall was a tall window that overlooked Diagon Alley. 

"No one should bother you up here," Tom informed them, as they took seats before the feast that had been laid out. "If you need anything, just ring that," he added, pointing to a large hand bell at the head of the table, and I'll be along. Mind you, it looks as if it's going to be a busy night."

Busy night turned out to be the understatement of the year. From the window, Harry could see that Diagon Alley was swarming with revellers, and he was certain that sooner or later a great many of them would pass through the pub for a pint or three. He wondered how Tom was planning on handling the demand. It looked very much as if the opening leading into Diagon Alley from the back of the pub would remain open on a constant basis tonight, as people passed through.

After a hearty supper, the Weasleys began to drift off one by one, to join the celebration below. Ron had quietly informed Harry than he and Hermione had taken a room for the night, and George had even managed to convince Pauline to go downstairs with him. A few minutes later, Harry spotted them down in the street swaying together to music that drifted up as far as the second floor. It looked as if their row would probably be made up before the end of the night.

"Do you want to go down?" came a voice beside him. Ginny had come to stand next to him in the window, looking down on the party. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her in front of him, as he buried his face in her hair.

"No," he said. "I don't feel much like celebrating. I never asked for all this, you know."

"I know."

"I did get the one thing I wanted today."

"What was that?"

"I got to see you."

"Too bad I have to go back."

"Who says you have to? I can ask Tom if he has another room…"

"I can't, Harry. The only way McGonagall would let me come today was if Dad could guarantee I'd be back at eleven. He turned my bracelet into a Portkey set to go off at eleven sharp." She held up her wrist, so Harry could see she was wearing the bracelet he'd given her last Christmas.

Harry tightened his arms around her waist and tried hard not to be disappointed. Ginny breathed a little sigh and settled back into his embrace. "I suppose we still have Christmas," he said.

Ginny giggled at that. "What about now? We've got this room to ourselves."

Harry looked behind him. It was true. By some miracle they found themselves left alone together. "Knowing our luck your mother will walk in on us," Harry said. 

"Hmmm, yes. Or worse, Fred and George."

"I think they've learned their lesson, don't you?" Harry teased.

Ginny turned to face him. "Maybe, but I'm not sure you couldn't use a lesson in caution. Haven't you learned yet that you don't want to make me mad at you?"

"And just what have I done to make you mad at me?"

"Let's see now. We haven't seen each other in two months, we haven't had a moment alone all day, and now that we finally do, you're still talking."

"Is there something I ought to be doing instead?" he asked taking a step closer.

She smiled a bit, and he watched her eyes darken. "I can think of a thing or two, yes."

He put a hand up to her jaw line, tracing her cheekbone with one thumb, and her lips parted. He leaned down, intending to keep things light. They might be alone at the moment, and they might have joked about ways in which they might take advantage of that, but this really wasn't an ideal spot, and they both knew it. Besides, Harry was no longer certain what time it was, and it was hardly the moment to look at his watch.

Just before their lips touched, she whispered, "I love you, Harry," and the words sent a jolt through him, driving both conscious thought and good intentions away. They were soon kissing deeply, her hands wandering over his back, while his own hand slid from her face into her hair. Minutes passed before they broke apart, their breathing much shallower than it had been. 

Ginny's eyes burned into Harry's as they stared at each other. Where was he going to find the strength to let her go back to school again? He felt as if, once she was gone again, he'd be lost. His arms tightened around her convulsively. He didn't want to let her go. He needed her here with him.

She shifted against him, tilted her head back and their lips met again until he felt her sag, boneless, against his chest. He pulled her closer, supporting her weight against him, and losing all track of time.

It came as a nasty surprise when he felt a jerk behind his navel, but by the time that happened it was too late to do anything about it. Knowing it must be eleven, he opened his eyes, but he was too close to Ginny to see her expression. Their lips were still fused together.

Harry landed hard, staggering backwards, as he was still supporting Ginny's weight, and landing on his back with Ginny on top of him. He felt a whoosh of air in his face as her breath was released suddenly.

"Are you all right?" she asked tentatively, pushing herself up. His arms were still around her, and he didn't really want her to leave them.

"Yeah." He raised his head slightly and recognised Hogwarts entrance hall. He had a sudden, wicked thought. "Remember that storage room? We can go there, and…"

"Harry…" Ginny squeaked. 

At the same time came a malevolent voice. "My, my, we are in trouble, aren't we?"

Ginny and Harry both scrambled to their feet, reddening. Filch was leering at the two of them in anticipation. "I was told to expect only one student coming in now. What's Potter doing here? You haven't come back for a look at the place, have you? Because you need an appointment for that."

"No! It was…"

"We lost track of time," Ginny broke in. "My Portkey activated. We didn't know it was so late."

Filch looked sceptical, but at the same time he looked unhappy that he probably wasn't going to be able to use his manacles in this situation. "Off to bed with you, then," he snarled at Ginny. "You can be sure I'll be discussing this with Professor McGonagall first thing in the morning. You," he added, turning to Harry, "clear off. _Now!_"

Harry may have just spent the day being honoured for his defeat of Voldemort, but the surly Hogwarts caretaker had a knack for making him feel as if he was a mere first-year again. Harry didn't even stop to consider disobeying. He turned and walked out the front door. When he reached the front steps he realised it was pouring rain.

"Oh, just perfect," he grumbled, "Perfect end to the perfect day. All that's missing now is for me to run into St John!" And with that he reached into his pocket, turned the hands on his own Portkey to six o'clock, and returned to the Burrow.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Sorry about not getting this posted sooner. I didn't have a lot of time to work on it at the end of the holidays. Thanks go to Marian for her help and suggestions, and to Rune for telling me something about what really goes on in a law office. I hope I've made things a bit more true-to-life now. Credit also goes to Paula for the Minister for Magic's name. Thanks to everyone who continues to review.


	14. Chapter 14

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Fourteen

Harry woke up late the next day, still a bit tired. He had a fuzzy sort of recollection of a strange dream waking him up in the night, but he had no idea what it had been about. The only thing he could remember was that it had been disturbing. Even once he'd opened his eyes, he was reluctant to leave the comfort of his bed. Seeing Ginny yesterday had been a wonderful surprise. To know she was still _there_, constant and caring, had been just what he needed. Except now, he missed her even more. Those few precious hours had been nowhere near enough, and now the emptiness hit him all the more painfully. 

But then he realised if he lay here in bed and thought about it, it only made things worse. It might be better if he did get up and find something to do that would take his mind off of the situation. Or write to Ginny. Perhaps writing all this down would ease the hurt some. That's what he'd do, as soon as he'd had something to eat.

By the time he'd got dressed and gone down to breakfast, it was past ten, and he fully expected to have to see to fixing himself some toast or a bowl of cereal on his own. He was surprised to find Mr Weasley sitting at the kitchen table still in his pyjamas, his bad leg propped up on a spare chair. Mrs Weasley was standing at the stove, muttering under her breath.

"Morning," Harry greeted, idly glancing at the _Daily Prophet_, which was lying on the table, as he took a seat. He'd expected there to be a picture from yesterday on the front page, and there was. It took up half of the front page, the entire space of the paper that Harry was able to see, since it was folded in half. He could see his photographic self sitting motionless on the platform surrounded by Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the Ministry officials. He pushed the paper aside. He wasn't really in the mood to read an account of yesterday's proceedings.

"Good morning Harry!" Mr Weasley replied quite brightly, almost too brightly, looking up from his bowl of porridge. Harry thought the older man looked rather tired, which was hardly astonishing, since he'd spent a good part of the previous afternoon standing on his injured leg.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Harry asked, wondering if he'd get an honest reply. He knew Mr Weasley's leg should have healed by now if he'd merely broken it. There was no reason he should still have a noticeable limp when he walked.

"Just fine. Bit tired from yesterday, but that'll pass."

Mrs Weasley plunked a bowl of porridge in front of Harry. "Good morning, dear," she said pleasantly enough, but there was an underlying note of tension in her voice. When she returned to the stove, she replaced the lid on the pot of porridge much more loudly than necessary, making Harry wonder what she was put out about.

A heavy silence fell over the room as Harry began to eat. Mrs Weasley sat down at the table with them, setting her mug of tea down a bit too hard and sloshing the contents over the tabletop. "Honestly!" she hissed under her breath.

Harry stirred at his porridge, wondering what was going on, as the tension in the room seemed to mount. He felt as if he ought to ask what was wrong, but he didn't quite dare. He was afraid this might have something to do with the fact that he'd managed to get caught up in Ginny's Portkey last night, although he had no idea how the elder Weasleys might have found out about that. They'd left the celebrations early last night, and by the time he'd come back to the Burrow, they'd gone to bed.

So instead of enquiring about what really might be going on, he cleared his throat and brought up something else that was on his mind, something related that might allow him to test the waters a bit. "Mr Weasley," he began, "I'd like to thank you for bringing Ginny down from school yesterday."

Mr Weasley seemed to jump. "Oh, it was nothing really. You ought to be thanking Molly. She insisted on me going to get Ginny. She said it was important to you."

Harry turned to Mrs Weasley, reddening as he did so. She'd known how he was feeling yesterday, and she'd given him the best thing she could to lift his spirits. "Thank you," he said to her quietly.

Mrs Weasley smiled, and for a moment her expression softened. "That's quite all right, dear. On a day like yesterday it was only right to have your whole family around you."

Harry swallowed hard. "Well, I appreciate it. You knew I was having a bad day, and you saved it from being even worse. And… she can get me out of my moods. You know that, don't you?" 

Mrs Weasley nodded, and Harry went on, the words tumbling out before he could really think about what he was saying or stop them. "She makes me look at the world around me. She makes me _see._ And I don't know how she does it. Hell, I don't know _why_ she even does it. That she even thinks I'm worth…" 

He stopped suddenly, realising what an idiot he must sound like. Mr and Mrs Weasley were both staring at him as if in shock. They weren't used to him going on like this, he told himself, as he ducked his head and spooned some porridge into his mouth, just so he wouldn't have to look at either of them. He waited for Mrs Weasley's wrath to descend on him, but it didn't come.

The taut silence descended once more. Harry continued to eat, but he wasn't really hungry, and the tension that began to grow in the room once more didn't do anything for his appetite. Mr Weasley fidgeted in his chair as if he was having a difficult time finding a comfortable position.

"Shouldn't your leg have healed by now?" Harry asked, as much to break the silence as anything. 

Mr Weasley looked up at Harry warily. 

"I mean I don't know a whole lot about healing charms," he rushed on, "but I know Madam Pomfrey was always able to patch me up quickly. I lost all the bones in my arm once, and she healed it overnight…"

Harry had obviously said the wrong thing. Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged a glance that told him he was treading in unwelcome territory. Suddenly Mrs Weasley spoke up, and Harry knew she was trying to change the subject. "Harry, you know I found your cloak down here this morning, and it was soaked through."

Harry had left his cloak spread out over the stove, thinking it would dry over night. "Oh, it was raining when I came home," he hedged. "I got caught in it before I could activate my Portkey."

"Really? I didn't think it looked like it was going to rain in Diagon Alley," Mrs Weasley commented. "Towards the end of the day, I thought it looked as if it might clear up."

"Oh, this was up at Hog-" Harry stopped but it was too late. If the elder Weasleys hadn't known where he'd ended up last night, they certainly did now. "What I mean to say is," he went on in a rush, "Ginny and I were… well we were saying goodbye, and it was later than we thought it was. So when her Portkey activated, I sort of went with her. But nothing happened…"

The expression on Mrs Weasley's face made him stop and swallow. Mr Weasley had broken into a coughing fit that was somehow reminiscent of Ron. "Now Molly, they could well have been holding hands when that happened…"

"…Not that it would have," Harry went on as if Mr Weasley hadn't spoken. His brain seemed determined to get him into as much trouble as possible. "We just landed in the entrance hall and Filch kicked me out. And when I got outside it was raining, hard, so, well I got wet…"

He trailed off lamely, knowing he sounded like a complete prat. He couldn't look either of them in the eye. He had to look somewhere, anywhere else. His gaze settled on the _Daily Prophet_, and he reached for it.

"Oh, I don't think you want to look at that, dear," Mrs Weasley said quickly.

It was too late. Harry had already unfolded the paper and seen that the part of the front page that had been folded under was covered with an article on yesterday's ceremony. Harry's eye immediately fell on the by-line: Rita Skeeter. His stomach churned unpleasantly, but he began to read in spite of himself. It wasn't long before he realised why Mrs Weasley had seemed so angry earlier.

His hands began to shake, as anger welled up in him, but he held it in. It wasn't possible; it just wasn't possible. How could she print such lies? The article insinuated that Harry had knowingly taken recourse to the Dark Arts when he'd banished Voldemort, and that the Ministry was now rewarding him for that. He didn't even want the money they'd given to him, he thought hotly; he was still thinking of how he might use some of it, at least, to help those who had been affected by the war, and to commemorate those who had died. To make things worse, she'd hinted that by insisting on having his friends at his side yesterday, he was merely looking to share the blame should this ever come to light. And after what she'd done to Sirius… Harry's stomach clenched as bile rose in his throat.

"Now, Harry," Mrs Weasley said, obviously noting his reaction, "perhaps you're just better off leaving that. We all know you've never had anything to do with dark magic, and we know the real reason you wanted Hermione, Ron and Ginny beside you yesterday. It had nothing to do with sharing any blame."

"Just try to ignore it as best you can, Harry," Mr Weasley advised. "Those who really know you, know none of this is true."

But why? Why should he ignore her? She'd been getting away with publishing lies about whomever she pleased for years. And that was the problem; everyone ignored her or worse believed her, so she just kept on. But what could Harry do about it?

He didn't bother replying to either of the Weasleys. His appetite had disappeared altogether now, and he pushed back his chair. Ignoring Mrs Weasley's concerned look, he stalked back up the stairs to Ron's room. He had a letter to write to Ginny.

It turned out to be a very angry one, in which he ended up describing all the ways he'd like to torture Rita Skeeter until she died in excruciating agony. He felt a bit better once he'd sent it off with Hedwig, but he was still unhappy with the situation. He wanted to do something to stop Rita Skeeter, but what _could_ he do? She'd been spewing her venom for years without anyone being able to do anything about it, seemingly. One of her favourite targets was the Ministry of Magic, and if there was something that could have been done about her, surely the Ministry would have done it. And in all he'd been learning about the laws of wizarding society lately, he didn't recall seeing anything that would prevent Rita from continuing. In any case, he knew his department had much bigger fish to fry.

"I suppose I could try to beat her at her own game," Harry said to himself at last. At least he could try to set things right for Sirius. He didn't feel it would look quite right if he wrote anything in his own defence, but if he could make people see that the article about Sirius had been a lie, perhaps they'd doubt the rest of what she wrote.

He took out a fresh piece of parchment and began to write. He'd burnt off a good bit of his earlier anger in the letter to Ginny, so it was much easier for him to think level-headedly about this. He was careful in his choice of words as he began to write down Sirius' story, thinking of the solicitors he'd been sent to observe in court, and how cleverly they phrased things to be at their most convincing. He made sure he emphasised the great wrong that had been done to his godfather so many years ago, the fact that he'd merely been made to look guilty without a shred of truly reliable proof. It had all been about appearances then, and it still was today.

Once he'd finished he realised that he was now stuck without an owl, as he'd already sent Hedwig off with the letter to Ginny. He made his way back down the stairs, hoping that Errol was up to the task. Mrs Weasley had sent him off to Hogwarts back at the beginning of September with quite a thick letter, and the ancient owl had never been the same since.

He was almost to the kitchen when he heard his named mentioned. Mr and Mrs Weasley were still there, and they were apparently discussing him.

"Arthur, you know you're going to have to have a _talk_ with Harry one of these days, don't you?" Mrs Weasley was saying. The particular way she emphasised the word "talk" told Harry that Mr Weasley wouldn't be discussing the weather with him, and he felt slightly queasy at the idea of just what Mr Weasley would most likely be discussing with him.

"Isn't that something for Sirius to talk over with him?" came Mr Weasley's reply.

Harry fervently prayed that Mrs Weasley would agree to that, but luck wasn't on his side today. "Sirius? You know I've got nothing against him, but the poor man did spend twelve years in prison, Arthur. I don't think he's the proper person to talk to Harry about this. It's your duty as Ginny's father to make…"

Harry turned around and went back up the stairs, having heard much more than he'd wanted to. He'd wait until later to ask if he could borrow Errol. And from now on he was going to make certain he avoided Mr Weasley.

*

"Ah yes," said the witch at the entrance to the Quidditch stadium in Falmouth. "Mr Potter, you have prime seats. Right this way."

She set off up the stairs towards the very top of the stadium. Harry followed silently in her wake, pulling his jacket closer about him to ward off the late November chill, while Ron trailed behind him, grumbling.

"As if we hadn't walked enough today!" Harry heard Ron say under his breath.

"Will you stop complaining?" Harry hissed back, in just as grumpy a mood as Ron was. It was bad enough everyone was staring at him already. He didn't feel the other spectators needed any other reasons to gape. Just over three weeks had passed since Halloween, three weeks that had seen all sorts of opinions appear in the _Daily Prophet_, some of which supported Harry and some of which did not. Mrs Weasley had fired off a blazing attack, but Harry wasn't too sure how helpful it had been, and since the article had come out, St John had found some new fodder for his snide remarks. At least Rita Skeeter herself had been quiet. Harry had been entertaining some wild fantasies about Hermione catching the reporter and sealing her up in another jar, permanently this time, but he didn't really believe anything like that had actually happened. He knew Rita would turn up again, just as soon as she had some more dirt on someone.

When they'd reached their seats at last, Ron started in again. "You owe me for this one, Harry…"

"Will you stop it?" Harry shot back. "I got you free tickets to a league match. So tell me, just how do I owe you?"

Ron held up a hand and began ticking off on his fingers. "One, we had to get up at the crack of dawn to get to this thing." Harry couldn't blame Ron for complaining about the early hour at which they'd had to rise this morning. He hadn't been sleeping very well lately, due to some troubling dreams he'd been having ever since Halloween. He never remembered what they were about exactly--although they weren't the same as the nightmare he'd had on the morning of the celebration--only that they involved Ginny in some way, and that they weren't about anything pleasant.

"Two," Ron went on, "we had to Floo to Exeter with you hanging onto me to catch the Muggle train. Three, we had to _change_ trains, with only seconds to spare. Four, we had to walk through the lovely town of Falmouth _twice_, just to find where the match was. Five, we had to slog our way all the way up here." Ron gestured around the stadium, drawing glances from the surrounding spectators. The stadium had not been in the town of Falmouth itself, but rather up on a nearby headland, known as Pennance Point, overlooking the sea.

"Will you please stop calling attention to us?" Harry asked once more, but Ron went on as if he hadn't heard. "All of those things might be forgivable, but for one thing. We're not even seeing the Cannons!"

"I couldn't help that, Ron, the Cannons weren't playing this week," Harry said. Then he dropped his voice a bit. "And anyway, you _know_ I had to choose a game that was close to Ottery St Catchpole."

Ron had the grace to look a bit more subdued, but only for a moment. "Only because you didn't want to ask Dad to make you a Portkey," he grated back. "And just why is that? I may not have been home long, but I've noticed how you've been avoiding Dad. What's going on there?" 

Ron had come home, his Auror training complete, two days ago, and Harry thought it might be a nice treat for the two of them to go a Quidditch match together, especially since the Ministry had given him tickets. Harry thought it best to at least put in an appearance at one or two matches, because he reckoned he might look ungrateful otherwise. However, the day had not turned out to be quite as fun as expected, so far, and they weren't even sure they'd see a good match. The league had only just gone back into operation, and the various teams had only had three weeks to prepare. On top of that, neither the Falmouth Falcons nor the Wigtown Wanderers were known for their spirit of fair play.

Ron was staring at Harry waiting for a reply that Harry was extremely reluctant to give. When Harry still didn't answer, Ron added, "Dad caught you and Ginny at something, didn't he? The night of the celebration…"

"Of course he didn't!" Harry retorted, feeling his face heat in spite of himself. "For one thing, your parents left early. For another, Ginny had that damned Portkey so she couldn't stay past eleven. How were we going to get up to anything?"  


"Then what's the problem?"

Harry sighed. "I managed to get caught along with the Portkey, and went back to Hogwarts with Ginny. Your parents managed to find out about it. Then…" He broke off. Ron was giving him an odd look.

"What?" Harry said, even more irritated now. "You _know_ I'm not just trying to see how far I can get with her."

"Yeah, I know that."

Harry reddened further at that. "Anyway," he said, leaning close and saying the rest in a low voice so only Ron could hear him, "then I overheard your mum telling your dad he needed to have a _talk_ with me."

Ron gaped at Harry for a moment, and then he burst out laughing very loudly, causing more of the witches and wizards seated around them to turn and stare. Harry slumped down in his seat, wishing he could just disappear.

Ron finally got his laughter under control. "Come on, Harry, it wasn't all that bad. All he told me was to protect myself, not get into any trouble, and have respect for the girl's wishes." Harry merely stared at Ron in disbelief. "Of course," Ron went on, "I don't suppose he's going to tell you the same thing. Sorry, mate, I guess you're on your own on this one."

"Thanks loads."

"Hey, it's better than Mum giving you the talk… Not that I'd know, but I can imagine."

"Yeah, you're right about that."

Then they both turned their attention to the Quidditch pitch in front of them. Not far from their seats, the announcer had cast a Sonorus Charm on himself and was announcing the teams. 

The Wigtown Wanders flew out in their blood red robes, the silver meat cleavers on their chests sparkling in the sunshine. Harry didn't pay a lot of attention to their names; he was too busy looking at a man on the side of the pitch who was also dressed in blood-red robes. Only he had a real meat cleaver in his hand. His wand was in his other hand, and he looked ready to hex anyone who displeased him. Harry took out his Omnioculars to get a better look.

After a moment or two, Harry nudged Ron and pointed to the man. "Looks sort of like Filch, doesn't he?" Harry observed.

"Yeah, he does," agreed Ron, "but he'd be a descendant of the Parkin family. I think his name's David Parkin, actually."

The home team was coming out now, dressed in their dark grey and white robes, adorned with a falcon's head. The announcer recited their names as well, and as a team they recited their motto: "Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads." 

Then the referee, introduced as Alysun Dysart, came onto the field, and called to the player to mount their brooms. It wasn't long before he'd released the balls, and the signal was given for the match to begin.

Within minutes, two things became apparent. Both teams were obviously rusty, a result of league play having been suspended due to the war and the fact that they'd only had three weeks' practice in order to prepare for today's game. They seemed determined to make up for their lack of refined skill by playing the dirtiest match they possibly could. The fouls committed on both sides made the Slytherin team look like paragons of virtue, and Referee Dysart was having difficulty keeping up with it all.

"And that's another penalty against the Wanders," roared the announcer. "Dysart calls McGraw for Blatching, and Chaser Wallace takes the Quaffle for the Falcons…" Down on the sidelines, David Parkin was glaring at the referee.

Harry lost track of the score as he tried to follow the Seekers' movements. Scanning the sky with his Omnioculars, he spotted them circling above the game, as they tried to stay out of trouble. The Wanderers' Seeker was attempting to tail the Falmouth player, much as Draco Malfoy used to tail Harry during school matches, but the Wigtown Seeker was having difficulty. The Falmouth Seeker seemed to have a very fast broom. Harry twiddled the knobs on his Omnioculars, trying to see what make of broom it was. It looked like it began with Nim-, but Harry was unable to see rest of the lettering. The Falmouth Seeker's hands were covering it up.

Harry was about to turn his attention back to the Quaffle, when a glimpse of gold near the ground caught his eye. The Snitch was down there, hovering near the base of one of the Wigtown goalposts. Harry quickly turned back to the Seekers, expecting one of them to go into a dive, but both of them kept circling, and when he looked back to where he'd seen the Snitch it had disappeared once more.

"Penalty to the Falcons," called the announcer, causing the crowd to burst out with catcalls aimed at the referee. "That's Stooging on the part of Chasers Preston and Morrisson."

As the match wore on, Harry spotted the Snitch several more times, but neither of the Seekers who were actually playing the game seemed to see it. Harry felt frustrated, but he told himself that perhaps if he were in the air he'd have missed the Snitch as well. It wasn't the same thing when you had to worry about Bludgers and being fouled… But he couldn't quite chase the idea out of his head, that if things had been different, he might be up there today, experiencing the exhilaration of flying once again. He could have beat either of these Seekers, he thought, even the one with the faster broom. If you didn't see the Snitch in time, it didn't matter how good your broom was…

"Look out!"

Ron's shout brought Harry out of his brooding just in time. A Bludger was hurtling towards them, and they both ducked as it flew over their heads. 

"Penalty shot for Falmouth. That's Bumphing!" cried the announcer.

Climbing back into his seat, Harry watched Chaser Titball take the penalty shot for the Falcons, narrowly beating the Wigtown Keeper, but then he began to watch the Seekers again, almost in spite of himself. There was something odd about the Falmouth Seeker's broom. It seemed to be vibrating.

"Ron, look at his broom," Harry began.

"What? Whose broom?"  


"The Falmouth Seeker's… What's his name? Lobo?"

"Oh yeah." Ron trained his Omnioculars on the grey-robed Seeker. "I don't see… Hey, wait a moment…"

The announcer interrupted him. "And Referee Dysart calls another penalty against Wigtown… Chaser Titball again with the penalty shot for Falmouth… And what's this? The referee has disappeared! Ladies and gentlemen, such a thing hasn't been seen since… Since… Well, I can't ever remember an incidence such as this in the history of the modern game. There will be an inquiry into this, you can be certain."  


For some reason Harry trained his Omnioculars onto David Parkin, and thought he looked rather smug. But then he noticed something else… The Snitch was fluttering nearby, and this time the Seekers had seen it. They were both diving, Lobo in the lead. He looked certain to catch it, assuring the victory for the home team. Harry leaned forward in his seat, as if he were on his own broom urging it to go faster. Lobo had his hand out. He was going to grab the Snitch…

The crash was spectacular. One moment Lobo had been reaching for the Snitch, and the next he'd ploughed into the ground. The Wanders' Seeker grabbed the Snitch, thankfully ending the game, as there was no referee left. The crowd stared in stunned silence for a moment before breaking out in a chorus of boos, as Lobo's team mates landed around him, meaning several medi-wizards had to push their way through to load him onto a stretcher. Insults could now be heard drifting up from the field. It looked as if accusations were being thrown in the Wanderers' direction.

Ron and Harry stared at each other. "You know what that almost reminded me of?" Ron began. "Back in first year, back at your first match, when Quirrell tried to curse you off your broom… His broom was vibrating like yours was. There's going to have to be an investigation of this…"

"You think that broom was hexed?"

"That's what it looked like to me." Ron was getting to his feet. "And it's not just that broom. The referee disappeared, as well."

"Where are you going?"

"Procedure. I need to find if there's any Aurors on duty and report this to them. And if there's any representatives from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, they have to be informed of this as well."

"Are you sure this was a hex?"

"Well, yeah, what else would it be?"

"I don't know… I guess you're right. It just looked like his broom was going too fast to me though."

"It was, because it was cursed. It was going faster than it was meant to, you know."

"Yeah, I know…" said Harry, as he set off after Ron to find whoever was in charge of this. Harry didn't say any more about it, but there was something strange going on here. Something gave him the feeling that the broom hadn't been hexed, that it had simply gone out of control because its rider was asking more of it than it was designed for.

*

Ginny was tired, tired and fed up. She was sick of the library, sick of translating, sick of rushing through her regular school work or putting it off, so she'd have more time to translate, sick of missing Harry, sick of everything. She didn't feel she was getting anywhere at all with this, and she knew that even once she'd gone through this book, if she didn't find anything, she'd have several others to work on. Hermione had made a start on the runic texts, and while she was steadily improving, she wasn't as fast as Ginny, simply because Ginny had had more practice at it.

Ginny knew she had to keep going for Harry's sake, but at the moment all she wanted was a break. Sitting here day after day and slogging through didn't give her any feeling that she was actually getting anywhere. If only she could _do_ something, something more concrete…

She sat back in her seat, and ran her hands over her face. Glancing about her for something to look at that wasn't covered in runes, her eye fell on a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ lying on a nearby chair. She shuddered. That Rita Skeeter article had turned her stomach, and she didn't need the aggravation of reading any more lies and insinuations about Harry. She'd sent him an angry letter in which she'd railed against Rita, and she'd received a similar rant from Harry the same day. He'd also told her in another letter that he'd written to the paper to defend Sirius, but she hadn't looked at a paper in the past three weeks, even to see that. She'd told herself it was best not to know.

For some reason she picked the newspaper up. It was at least two weeks old, and she wondered if she dared look. At least the front page didn't seem to have anything about Harry on it. She turned the page, and her eyes widened. A long letter appeared on page three, and scanning to the bottom, Ginny saw that it had been signed by her mother. 

__

To the Editor of the Daily Prophet

Sir or Madam,

How can you call yourself an editor of what is supposed to be a respectable newspaper? I have stood by and watched over the years as your paper has continually slandered Harry Potter and I will stand for it no more. This boy has never done anything to deserve the horrible treatment your paper has always felt the need to give him. One minute you are portraying him as boy that cries for the parents he never knew and the next you say he's disturbed and dangerous. You have taken the word of a writer that takes her Quick Quotes Quill statements as gospel. Do the facts mean nothing to you? Do you feel this sort of sensationalism is what sells papers, and that's your main goal, to sell papers? I was under the impression that a paper of your stature would want to print the truth, and not these lies.

Harry Potter is a good, honest, proper, and decent young man. He has always shown himself to us in that way. When others stood back, and refused to see that the dark side had risen, he did his utmost to make us aware of this situation. While other seventeen-year-olds were playing pranks, avoiding doing their school work, and gallivanting around to who knows where, Harry Potter was working diligently with his friends, working towards the downfall of the Dark Lord. You have the audacity to say that he had his friends with him, up at the podium, the other day as a fail-safe, so when the "truth" comes out he won't take the fall by himself. You don't know "truth" and you don't know Harry Potter. This young man has spent the last seven years protecting his friends, trying to keep them safe. And his friends are the ones that refused to let him fight this battle on his own. 

You accuse him of wanting glory; you don't know how wrong you are. He has never welcomed his fame. He wishes to be an ordinary boy, with an ordinary life. If you think he enjoyed the ceremony in his honour think again. He doesn't want recognition for himself, he wants it for everyone that fought that war; those that survived and those that did not, and that's_ another reason he insisted on having his friends sit with him. He did not do what he did alone, and he knows it. He wanted them to have their due recognition, as well._

You claim he used dark magic to kill Voldemort. This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of. I find it hard to believe that a boy whose life has been scarred by dark magic would use it himself. This boy lost his parents to dark magic. He has fought dark magic at the end of almost every school year for the past seven years. This boy was taught to see the light, to practice the light, and he would rather die than ever, ever use dark magic. What does it matter what spell he used, or where he got it from? Voldemort is gone; can't you be satisfied with that, can't you just say thank you? Why do you have to insinuate he would do wrong, when he's only ever done good.

Harry Potter does not deserve our criticism; he deserves our thanks, and I, for one, am not ashamed to say that I am proud of the way he turned out, especially when you consider his upbringing. If Rita Skeeter would like to dig up some dirt and create a scandal, perhaps she ought to dig up what she can on the relatives that raised Harry.

I find myself more disgusted each and every day when I pick up your paper. If there were another news source, believe me, I would never hold your paper in my hands again. As it is, I feel as if I must perform a Scouring Charm on them once I've finished reading your publication. Take a good look at what you are doing. Take a good look at your so-called reporters. Don't try to sell papers, try and report the truth. I have to wonder if I will ever believe another word printed under the heading of the Daily Prophet_ again!_

Molly Weasley

"Hermione!" Ginny called, getting up. "Hermione, have you seen this?"

Hermione looked up from her spot at the loans desk. Ginny knew the only reason Hermione didn't bother to tell her to keep her voice down was that it was Saturday, and almost everyone was at the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin Quidditch match, meaning the library was empty. "What is it?"

"Did you know my mother wrote a letter to the _Prophet_? And it got printed?"

"Of course, I did. I tried to show that to you when it came out, and you wouldn't hear anything about it."

Ginny thought back and remembered now. She'd been adamant about not looking. "Yes, but… Well some of what she said isn't even right, is it?"

"Your mother has no way of knowing where the spell Harry used came from. Not even Harry knows what else is in that book, does he? Unless you said something."

"No, of course, I haven't said anything to him about it. He'd want to know how I found out, and then I'd have to tell him why we're translating the whole thing. In any case, what good would it do to tell him? It's not as if anyone would want to reverse that spell, even if there was a way to."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Do you think… But no, we couldn't do that. If getting Harry's powers back would bring back Voldemort at the same time, we'd be back where we started, wouldn't we?" Ginny nodded her agreement. "In any case, I don't think a spell like that could be reversed," Hermione added.

"I just wish… I wish…" Ginny stopped, feeling herself tear up. "I guess I wish there had been another way to defeat him. I hate that Harry had to give up so much and he's not even receiving proper recognition for it. He doesn't deserve this."

"I know, Ginny. It's hard, but all we can do is keep forging ahead as best we know how."

Ginny swallowed hard, and nodded. It was all she could do. She returned to her place and set back to work with renewed determination. She _would_ get through this. An hour later, she turned yet another page in the old text. Scanning ahead through the flowing characters, she came to an odd place, something that didn't quite make sense. It was as if at the bottom of one page, the sentence began one way, and at the top of the next, it said something completely different. Looking closely at the book, she saw that a page seemed to have been torn put. She could see the ragged edges caught into the binding between two intact pages.

"I hope that's not anything important," Ginny said to herself, as she began translating at the top of the page. But it soon became apparent that it might be. As she worked, she began to pick up the context, and she had to ask herself if the page that had been torn out was the one, on which Hermione had discovered the spell.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Once again, real life has interfered with me getting this chapter done as soon as I'd have liked. Sorry about that. I will try to get back to updating this weekly if I can. I need to credit Marian with the Molly Weasley letter to the Daily Prophet_: she wrote that part, and anyway she's basically my partner in crime here. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and thanks once again to my betas._


	15. Chapter 15

The Long Road Home, Chapter Fifteen  
  
Ginny stared in disbelief at the words she had just written down. She couldn't be completely certain, because the beginning of the sentence was missing, but she was fairly sure that one of the words was "cure". The more she looked at the sentence, the more she was convinced she'd got it right. There simply weren't that many other possibilities. Why did the preceding page, of all pages, have to be the one that was gone?  
  
"Hermione?" Ginny called across the empty library. "Could you come over here for a moment, please?"  
  
Hermione looked up from the loans desk, where she'd been sitting, working out another runic text. The girls could count on working uninterrupted today, since the rest of the school was attending a Quidditch match. "What is it?" she asked, getting to her feet. "Did you find something?"  
  
"I'm not sure. Look." Ginny held up the book so that Hermione could get a look at it. "There's a page missing here."  
  
Hermione bit her lip. "Oh dear," she began as if she didn't want to believe what she was seeing. "That's got to be the page the spell was on. What did you find?"  
  
"Do you know what happened to the page?"  
  
"What did you find?" Hermione insisted, sounding more panicked now.  
  
"Will you just answer me?" Ginny grated.  
  
"Isn't what you've found more important than something we can't do anything about?"  
  
"I wouldn't have any way of knowing since you won't tell me. And what do you mean we can't do anything about it? There's got to be another copy of this book somewhere! There's just got to!"  
  
Hermione had gone pale. "No. No there isn't. It's one-of-a-kind. Madam Pince told me all those runic texts were."  
  
Ginny hissed several choice words she'd learned from her older brothers under her breath, thankful that he mother wasn't anywhere nearby to overhear them. "Just tell me what happened to that page, Hermione," Ginny said, low and threatening.  
  
"Harry tore it out," Hermione said in a small voice.  
  
Ginny shot to her feet. "What? Why would he do something like that?"  
  
"He didn't want to take any chances of you finding out about that spell. It was the night I discovered it. He came down to the common room, and I was still looking for it. And he was there when I found it. Once I'd got the passage translated into English, I showed it to him. I told him we could find another way, but he wouldn't hear it."  
  
Hermione's voice had been rising as she told what had happened, and Ginny noticed she was wringing her hands. There was a faraway look in her eyes. "And then. Then he made me swear not to say a word to anyone, especially not to you or Ron, and I tried to argue with him. I told him you'd want to know the details. That's when he did it. That's when he tore the page out of the book and burned it in the fireplace."  
  
"How?" Ginny asked, horrified. "How could you just let him do it?"  
  
"You weren't there. You didn't see him. He got really scary. How was I going to stop him?"  
  
"I don't know. You should have found a way! You should have said something to us at the time!"  
  
"I just got through telling you," Hermione shot back. "He made me swear not to tell." "What was I supposed to have done? Just break my word?"  
  
"Yes! Yes, you should have, if that's what it took. We could have stopped him!"  
  
"How? How would you have stopped him? He was bound and determined to do it. There wasn't any way anyone could have stopped him."  
  
"Well, you didn't try very hard, did you?"  
  
"Do you have any idea how I even felt?" Hermione shrilled. "Do you have any idea what I went through keeping that from you? Do you? It wasn't easy, you know! And I had to keep it all to myself for two months, not even knowing if one day I'd wake up and find him gone! He said that to me, did you know that? He told me he might sneak off if he got word of where Voldemort was. You have no idea what that's like. And you know what? I'm glad you don't. It was horrible! It would have been better if he'd wiped my memory."  
  
Hermione paused at last for a shaky breath. Ginny barely knew how to reply to this. She wasn't used to seeing Hermione lose her composure. The older girl was now looking at Ginny with narrowed eyes. "What did you find?"  
  
"Only that this book is completely useless!" Ginny picked it up and flung it against the nearest stack, and it fell to the floor with an ominous crack, its spine now broken and several pages fanning helplessly out over the flagstones.  
  
"Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione in horror.  
  
"THAT PAGE HE RIPPED OUT MOST LIKELY HAD THE CURE ON IT!"  
  
"Ginny, no! That can't be right! You must have translated it wrong!"  
  
"I'm damned well sure I didn't translate it wrong. Look!" She held up the parchment she'd been working on. "The top of the page, the one that followed the torn-out page, this is what it said: '.shall be the cure.' Go look for yourself if you don't believe me!" She thrust an angry finger towards the fallen book.  
  
"What about the rest of what we do have? Maybe the actual cure follows those words." Hermione didn't sound very hopeful, even as she said the words.  
  
"I've done the rest. There's nothing. I'm telling you if it was anywhere, it was on the page Harry tore out."  
  
"NO! No." Hermione buried her face in her hands. "No, this can't be. This is all my fault. I should have told you what I was doing. I was only trying to spare Ron's feelings, you know. I knew he was going to stuff something up. Well it looks like the joke's on me, isn't it?" She removed her hands from her face and looked starkly at Ginny, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I stuffed things up even worse. I should have translated both pages before saying anything. I should have shown you." Her hands were shaking now, the tears beginning to leak out. "If only I'd thought about it some more. We could have had the cure ready and everything would be fine now. None of us would have this secret we have to hide, and Harry. Harry would be able to do whatever he wants. He wouldn't feel he has to hide from everyone. We could have all taken our Apparition tests together last summer."  
  
Hermione continued to rant, pacing about the area between the table and the stacks, and Ginny felt worse and worse for having told her. No one else could ever know of this, most especially not Harry. The knowledge would kill him. Ginny didn't think twice about drawing her wand.  
  
"Obliviate!"  
  
Hermione froze in place, looked dazed for a moment, and then she seemed to shake herself.  
  
"Did you hear what I just said to you?" Ginny asked quickly, her heart beginning to pound at the thought of what she'd just done.  
  
"No." Hermione looked slightly bemused. "What were we just talking about?"  
  
"Viktor Krum," Ginny supplied, fighting to keep her tone calm. "Have you heard anything further from him?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. The week before, she'd had an owl from him, which had given them reason to believe he might have heard of something that could restore powers to someone who had lost them. But he'd also said he'd have to research it, and there had been no further word.  
  
"Maybe we should write to him again," said Ginny.  
  
"What good would it do? If he finds anything he'll let us know. In the meantime, we'd only be pestering him."  
  
"You did tell him it was important, didn't you?"  
  
"Well, I didn't want to give too much away. If I sounded too desperate to know, it might have led to questions I didn't want to have to answer. The best we can do is keep working with what we've got until we hear otherwise."  
  
Hermione glanced at the table as if she wanted to indicate the book Ginny had been translating. She looked around her, obviously confused at not seeing it where she expected it to be, then she spied it on the floor a few feet away from them. "Ginny, how did that happen? That book is a one-of-a- kind."  
  
"I'm sorry," Ginny replied quickly, inwardly relieved that Hermione seemed to remember nothing of their recent drama or anything connected with it. "I was going to show you something and I dropped it. It's very old. It just broke. Here." She drew her wand out again, intending to repair it, and Hermione shook her head, as is she was clearing cobwebs out of it.  
  
"Miss Weasley, what are you doing with your wand out in the library?"  
  
Ginny heaved a heavy sigh and turned to face Professor McGonagall, who had just interrupted the girls' conversation. "I was just about to repair that book, Professor," she replied meekly.  
  
"You will leave that to Miss Granger. I'd like to have a word with you."  
  
Ginny had been expecting this eventually, but the knowing didn't make her any more ready to face what promised to be a very unpleasant interview. The fact that the headmistress was missing a Quidditch match to talk to Ginny did nothing to make her feel any more optimistic.  
  
"Is this about the incident in Potions?" Ginny asked resignedly.  
  
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips into a thin line. "That's only the beginning. If you'd come with me, please."  
  
Ginny said a few more choice words to herself. Could this day possibly get any worse? She trudged after the headmistress towards the older woman's office, but she couldn't miss the piercing look Hermione gave her. So far she'd managed to hide the fact that she'd been putting off her school work from the older girl. She knew she wouldn't be able to get away with that any longer.  
  
"Incident in Potions" was rather an understatement. She hadn't been paying much attention to what she was doing and had managed to mis-measure the brimstone mixed with St John's wort she'd been adding to her Alzante Elixir. It had been most unfortunate that Professor Snape had chosen that very moment to check her progress, because when her cauldron erupted in a seething mass of volatile liquid, a good bit of it had jetted into the potions master's face, causing it to break out in some very ugly boils and eating away his robes and hair wherever it touched. Things had only got worse when Professor Snape had decided that Ginny had let her potion explode on purpose and taken fifty points from Gryffindor, proclaiming loudly that he'd be discussing her detention with her head of house.  
  
Nothing had seemed to come of that discussion immediately, but Ginny had known better than to trust her luck and think everything would blow over. Her luck seemed to have deserted her lately, and Snape had had it in for her ever since he, along with everyone else, had learned she'd been behind the Zonko's explosion. He had no solid proof she'd stolen potions ingredients, of course, but he'd rightly deduced what she'd done.  
  
Ginny and Professor McGonagall arrived at the stone gargoyle, which hid the entrance to the headmaster's office. In Dumbledore's day the password had often been some sort of sweet, but when Professor McGonagall gave her password, it was evident that a new regime was in place.  
  
"Nepeta cataria!"  
  
The stone gargoyle leapt aside to reveal the spiral staircase that led to McGonagall's office. Ginny had been in this room on rare occasions during Dumbledore's tenure, and she noted that the office had undergone some changes to reflect its new occupant. Gone were the silver instruments that emitted curious noises and puffs of smoke. The portraits of former headmasters still adorned the walls, and a new one had been added to the collection. Albus Dumbledore himself sat smiling in his ornate gold frame. Unlike the other headmasters he wasn't drowsing. Ginny could see his blue eyes twinkling at her, while in the background of the painting Fawkes preened on his perch. The actual phoenix was nowhere in evidence in the office, and Ginny wondered where he could have got to. He couldn't actually have died, could he?  
  
Professor McGonagall sat behind the claw-footed desk, gesturing for Ginny to take a seat in a shabby-looking tartan wing chair.  
  
"I'm going to get straight to the point, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall began. "I need to ask what's troubling you this year."  
  
Ginny blinked. She'd been expecting a lecture. "Troubling me?" she repeated lamely.  
  
"Yes. There is obviously something wrong. I have rarely seen such a model student turn around so fast. You used to maintain some of the highest marks in your year, and this year they've plummeted. I hear you haven't been turning in your assignments. You're distracted in class, when you haven't dropped off entirely. Yet you spend a great deal of time in the library. I found you there today, rather than at the Quidditch match. So I have to ask what's happened. I can't imagine you suddenly find your classes too difficult."  
  
McGonagall stopped and looked at Ginny expectantly. Ginny hardly knew what to reply. She'd been trying desperately to catch up to her classes in recent weeks, but the translation work, which now looked as if it had all been for naught, had been her main priority. This meant she'd been sitting up late every night studying when she could and running on very little sleep. That was what had been at the root of her recent Potions disaster-- she'd been half asleep and misread the directions.  
  
"I'm. I'm sorry," she replied at last. "I managed to fall behind at the beginning of the year, and I'm still trying to catch up. I've been staying up late making up the work, and it's made me tired."  
  
Professor McGonagall looked sceptical. "I find that difficult to believe, when you've been spending such inordinate amounts of time in the library since the beginning of the year. Or am I to surmise that you've been working on something that isn't related to school work? You're not planning any more pranks on your brothers, are you?"  
  
Ginny slumped a bit lower in her chair. She might have known it was only a matter of time before that incident was brought up as well.  
  
"I don't know what I can possibly say that will impress upon you the gravity of the situation, Miss Weasley," McGonagall went on. "You've already managed to lose your prefect's badge, and your marks have dropped at an alarming rate. There are those who hold the opinion that you're not taking your school work seriously enough to even remain at Hogwarts. You do realise you'll be taking your NEWTs at the end of the year, and that those marks will determine the sort of job you'll be able to get. Have you given any thought to what you want to do once you've left school?"  
  
Ginny had to shake her head no, while a cold sort of weight settled in the pit of her stomach. Her future career had been the last thing on her mind. How was she supposed to know at seventeen what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, anyway? She remembered having a similar conversation with Harry last year, and at the time he'd not had much of an idea what he wanted to do with his life, either.  
  
"I'd give the matter some thought if I were you. Unfortunately, if you keep on this road you've started down, you won't be qualified to take tickets at a league Quidditch match."  
  
The headmistress paused at this point, clearly expecting a reply, but Ginny continued to stare stonily ahead, determined not to allow Professor McGonagall see how shaken she was by this pronouncement. She definitely wanted more out of life than a job like that, but she'd wasted the past few months on an entirely fruitless endeavour. There was no way she was ever going to get that time back.  
  
"All right, we'll begin with the matter at hand then. What happened in Potions class?"  
  
"It. it was a mistake," replied Ginny, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I don't know what Professor Snape told you, but I didn't make that potion explode on purpose. I was tired, and I didn't pay close enough attention to the directions. It was all an accident."  
  
"I see. I suppose this brings us to the matter of how you managed to get behind in your classes in the first place, since you've already told me that's the ultimate reason behind your fatigue."  
  
Ginny looked about her wondering what she should say in reply. She couldn't very well tell Professor McGonagall the truth of the matter. Her eye fell on the portrait of Professor Dumbledore. She had a shock when he winked at her. Then she remembered the story that the twins had fed her mother to cover the real reason why she had avenged herself on them. "It's all my brothers' fault," she blurted.  
  
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. In the background Ginny could see Professor Dumbledore's portrait self nodding at her approvingly, a sly smile creeping over his features. "You're blaming your poor performance on your brothers? Don't you think you're a bit old to be trying that sort of trick?"  
  
"It's true. Fred and George kept sending me things like self-igniting parchment, which meant I had to keep redoing my homework. That's how I got behind. And I got fed up with them, so I had to plan my revenge, and working out how to do that took a lot of time."  
  
"Yes, well you could have chosen another means of dealing with them, couldn't you?" Ginny tried her best to look contrite, not really sure that she succeeded since she didn't really regret what she'd done very much. "In any case, we've been over that. However, I find it difficult to believe that someone of your talent let something like that set you back to this extent. Are you certain there isn't anything else going on?"  
  
There was plenty going on; Ginny just couldn't tell her what. "I suppose I'm worried about my father," she hedged. "He was involved in an accident at work at the end of the summer, and he hasn't been the same since. He's still recovering."  
  
That seemed to be working. Professor McGonagall's expression softened a touch. Ginny wanted to squirm in her seat with guilt. While she was legitimately worried about her dad, it wasn't to the point of getting in the way of her studies, and she didn't like making the situation more than it was.  
  
"Well, we've all been through a lot over the summer, haven't we? You wouldn't be having nightmares of any sort, would you?"  
  
"Nightmares?"  
  
"Well, you did take part in the battle last June. I should have considered it sooner."  
  
"I haven't been having nightmares," Ginny protested. Lately she'd been too tired to remember her dreams at all.  
  
"It's all right to admit it, dear. You'll have seen some things that no one ought to see."  
  
"I'm not having any nightmares," Ginny insisted, while she kicked herself mentally for not taking the way out that Professor McGonagall had so conveniently offered her. She was tired of keeping so many of her feelings to herself, tried of the lies and cover-ups. She took a shaky breath, struggling to maintain her composure, and knowing that the effort was probably futile.  
  
The headmistress was watching her closely, and Ginny felt as if all the stress she'd been feeling was plain to see on her face. "There's got to be something else, I'm sure of it. Sometimes it helps to unburden."  
  
"THERE ISN'T ANYTHING ELSE!"  
  
"Miss Weasley!"  
  
"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me these days. It's everything." The tears were beginning to leak out now. She swiped at them and looked down into her lap, angry with herself for not being able to hold them back. "It's all just seemed to pile up and fall on me today."  
  
"What has?" asked Professor McGonagall quietly.  
  
Ginny looked up sharply. "I can't tell you. It's personal."  
  
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "How personal? Should I send you to talk to Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"No. What does Madam Pomfrey have to. NO! It's not anything like that at all."  
  
"I think you need to talk about it to somebody. And since it's affecting your schoolwork, it concerns me as well."  
  
"I'm sorry. I can't tell you. It's a secret. I'm trying to make up the missed work. Honestly, I am. I suppose I'll just have to work harder at it. And I'll work harder next term. I know I need good NEWT results."  
  
Professor McGonagall was looking hard at her. "You most certainly will be working harder. From now until the end of term, you will be serving detention with me. When you are not at class, at meals or sleeping, you will be making up your work here in this office. Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And if your work is not made up to my satisfaction, you will not be attending the ball on the winter solstice."  
  
"Yes, Professor."  
  
"That will be all, then. And if I don't see an immediate improvement, I shall be forced to notify your parents."  
  
"You won't have to," Ginny assured her.  
  
"You may go and get your school things, and then I will expect you back here to begin your detention. I shall be waiting for you in the corridor."  
  
Ginny dragged her feet on her way back to Gryffindor Tower to get her school bag. She had briefly considered going to the library first to inform Hermione that she would no longer be helping her with the translation and to get the parchment, quills and ink she had left on the table but decided against it. She couldn't face looking at that library for another instant. There was no hope left in that route. It was time for her to buckle down and concentrate on her studies, and she had from now until Christmas to make up for lost time.  
  
*  
  
Harry activated his Portkey and disappeared from the Ministry of Magic's Apparition point to reappear seconds later in the Burrow's cosy kitchen, which was filled with the scents of holiday baking. The rich aromas of yeast and cinnamon caused Harry's stomach to rumble in anticipation of a freshly cooked, hot meal. He'd been subsisting on reheated leftovers for a week now, and he was quite looking forward to a relaxing family supper. He'd be paying for the time off later this evening, as he'd brought work home with him.  
  
"Evening, Harry," greeted Mrs Weasley. Her apron was covered in flour. "Supper will be ready in just a few minutes."  
  
Harry smiled at her, as he laid aside a large package and an armful of parchment, before removing his cloak and tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair. He normally didn't wear it to work, since he didn't even have to step outside to travel, but he'd managed to take the time on his lunch hour to get some Christmas shopping done, and he'd needed it to venture out into Diagon Alley. Early December had brought frost and chill winds with it.  
  
"Has there been any post?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"You've had an owl, but it doesn't look like it's from Ginny," Mrs Weasley commented, nodding towards his place at the table.  
  
Harry picked up the envelope and recognised his godfather's writing. "It's from Sirius," he said, slitting the parchment and taking a seat, as Mr Weasley hobbled in from the living room.  
  
Harry suddenly became engrossed in the letter and was grateful when Mr Weasley made no comment to him. He'd managed to avoid having any sort of conversation, other than small talk, with Mr Weasley for over a month now, and he wasn't about to break that perfect record.  
  
Sirius' letter seemed to be mainly a tirade against Remus, who refused to accept any sort of rent payments. Since Halloween, the Order's forces had been officially disbanded. Bill had returned to Egypt, hoping his job at Gringott's was still available, while Remus had gone to live on the property he'd inherited from his parents when they'd died. According to Sirius, who had gone to stay with his long-time friend, the small house wasn't in very good condition, and Remus didn't have much money to make the necessary repairs. Sirius complained in his letter that he was willing to pay rent out of his indemnity, and that might pay for repairs, but Remus wouldn't hear of it. "He's being a hard-headed git about it," Sirius railed.  
  
Just as Harry finished reading that sentence, Ron Apparated into the kitchen. Harry couldn't resist a laugh. "Perfect timing."  
  
Ron looked askance at him. "What are you on about?"  
  
"Oh, nothing really. Just that you're right on time for supper."  
  
Indeed, Mrs Weasley was setting food on the table, and the family was soon tucking into a hearty shepherd's pie, salad and freshly baked rolls. Harry scanned the rest of the letter quickly, noticing in passing that Sirius had invited him to visit whenever he wanted, but that posed a problem. If he was going to visit Sirius, he'd need another Portkey, and he'd have to ask Mr Weasley to make one for him. And he didn't really want to give Mr Weasley an opening for any embarrassing sort of talk. On the other hand, if he asked now, Mr Weasley was hardly going to launch into a lecture about why Harry should keep his hands to himself and not on Ginny at the supper table.  
  
"Mr Weasley, Sirius says he'd like me to come for a visit sometime. Do you think you can make me another Portkey?"  
  
"You sure you don't want one that goes anywhere else while we're at it?" asked Ron, laughing.  
  
"No, of course not."  
  
"Are you completely sure? I hear Hogsmeade is lovely this time of year." Harry kicked Ron under the table, but he didn't miss the look that passed between the elder Weasleys. Mr Weasley looked amused for a moment, until Mrs Weasley pressed her lips into a thin line. Mr Weasley's eyes became a bit less twinkly after that.  
  
"You make sure you tell Sirius and Remus they're invited to come to Christmas dinner when you write back to him, Harry," said Mrs Weasley. Harry nodded and she continued, "And Hermione, Ron. Does she have any plans that you know of?"  
  
"Erm," began Ron, his mouth full of roll, "I think she mentioned something about being invited to her aunt's on Christmas Day. They're expecting me to go along, as well."  
  
Mrs Weasley looked disappointed. "But I wanted the whole family together."  
  
Ron swallowed. "I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe we can have lunch here, and supper there. Or something." Harry couldn't help thinking they sounded like old married couple, they way they had to juggle family commitments so that no one would be disappointed.  
  
"Anything new come up in that Quidditch match investigation?" Harry asked Ron, as they continued to eat. "You're allowed to talk about it, aren't you?" Although Ron had moved back home now that he'd completed his Auror training and they were sharing a room, they'd barely seen each other since the game in Falmouth. They'd both been working odd hours.  
  
"There's nothing much I can tell you, actually. Not because I'm not allowed to discuss it, but because there's nothing to say, really. All they've worked out is that Parkin bloke didn't do anything to hex the Falmouth Seeker's broom."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, he was too busy sending the referee off. Do you know where he turned up? In the middle of Diagon Alley!"  
  
"How'd Parkin manage something like that?"  
  
"Some Dark Arts spell apparently. I don't remember what he used. But he's going to have a bit of trouble now. I imagine you'll find him coming through your office at some point or other."  
  
"Just what we need. More work."  
  
"Well, this was a fairly minor infraction, since the referee wasn't hurt-- he was just confused as anything--so I don't think you'd see his case come up till after Christmas. They've released Parkin on his own recognisance, but he's not allowed to attend any more Quidditch matches."  
  
"So what about the Seeker's broom? Do they still think it was hexed?"  
  
"They're still stripping it down. From what I've heard, they haven't found anything so far."  
  
"I'm not so sure it was cursed myself."  
  
"What makes you say that? From where I was sitting it looked to me like back in first year."  
  
"I'd have no idea what that looked like from the ground, but I've just got a feeling. It didn't look like a curse on the broom. It just looked like he lost control."  
  
"Well, we won't know for a while yet. Remember when Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick stripped down your Firebolt?"  
  
"That took ages!"  
  
"We ought to know before Christmas, I'd think. They've got a few people working on it whenever there's time."  
  
"Did you ever get to see what make of broom it was?"  
  
"Oh, just a Nimbus 2001. Nothing special, really. Why are you so interested?"  
  
Harry shrugged. He couldn't really put a finger on it, but there'd been something strange about that broom. If he listened to his instincts, he'd say that the broom had been charmed to go that fast on purpose, and the reason it had crashed was that its rider had been unable to control the speed.  
  
When the meal was over, Harry picked up the parchment he'd left on the counter earlier and took it into the living room, where he sat down at the table in the corner, intending on writing up the case summaries Hill had asked him to do. He had just pulled out a quill and some ink and begun to write, when Ron joined him at the table, carrying his own supply of parchment.  
  
"What's that?" Harry asked, looking up. "You didn't bring work home as well, did you?"  
  
"No, but I've got to write to Hermione. You don't mind do you?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I do have to get this done tonight, but I don't suppose you'll bother me."  
  
Ron lowered his voice. "I reckon we've got some plans to make, as well, and I have no idea when we'll get a chance to discuss it."  
  
Harry set down his quill. "What plans?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Well, there's this ball thing at Hogwarts in a couple of weeks, and we're both planning on going, aren't we?" Harry nodded. "So did you ever give any thought to where you'd be spending the night?"  
  
Harry reddened. He had a good idea where Ron planned to spend the night, but he hadn't given any thought to his own situation. He knew where he'd like to be spending the night, but he also knew wasn't going to be feasible. "I thought I'd use my Portkey to come back here after the ball," he said.  
  
Ron looked sceptical. "You're joking, right?"  
  
"No, why would I be joking? It'll be easy enough for you to spend the night with Hermione. She's got her own room. But what good is it going to do me to stay anywhere but here? I can hardly stay in Ginny's dormitory."  
  
"Well, you can't come back here, because then Mum is going to wonder about it if I don't come home."  
  
"What am I supposed to do then? Get a room at The Three Broomsticks?"  
  
A grin began to spread over Ron's face. "Now there's an idea."  
  
Harry stared at Ron in disbelief. "Let me get this straight. You're suggesting we get a room at The Three Broomsticks, one you're not going to be sleeping in, meaning I've got the room to myself. And you're okay with this?"  
  
"Yeah, that's about the long and the short of it."  
  
"But that means I can br-"  
  
Ron cut him off. "Just spare me the details, all right? As long as you don't say it out loud in front of me, I can pretend I don't know what's really going on."  
  
"What's going on?" A new voice made Harry jump. He saw that Mrs Weasley had joined them in the living room.  
  
"Nothing," Harry said too quickly, reddening in spite of himself. Ron kicked him under the table.  
  
"Are you sure, dear?" asked Mrs Weasley, peering at him more closely.  
  
"Yes," said Harry.  
  
"Let me handle this," Ron said under his breath. "Mum, you know there's going to be this party up at Hogwarts in a few weeks, don't you? Well, Harry and I were thinking, we should get a room at The Three Broomsticks. It'll probably be late, and all. And I'll be too tired to Apparate. The seventh years are going to be allowed to stay out later than the younger students, so who knows when we'd get home."  
  
"Why, I think that's an excellent idea," replied Mrs Weasley to Harry's shock. He'd been certain she'd see right through this plan. "Why don't you let me make the reservations for you?"  
  
Ron, who had been looking hopeful in light of his mother's favourable reaction, stopped smiling. "I don't think that's going to be necessary, Mum. We can take care of it."  
  
"Nonsense, dear. You've both been working so hard lately. When would you have the time? Please, let me do this for you. It'll be one less thing for you to worry about."  
  
It was going to be impossible for Ron to reply to this without giving anything away, so he thankfully kept his mouth shut. Mrs Weasley smiled at them both and went off towards the stairs.  
  
"Nice going," Harry grumbled. "I can just imagine it now. Two very narrow single beds. Probably the lumpiest they've got."  
  
"Just shut it, will you? It was worth a try. You'll work something out. After all, I won't be there."  
  
Harry glared at Ron for a moment and turned back to his work, while Ron pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket. It wasn't long before Harry heard him muttering under his breath. He sighed and set down his quill once more.  
  
"Do you mind? I've got to get this finished tonight, and I'd like to get to bed at a decent hour."  
  
"Sorry. It's just Hermione. Why does she insist on mentioning Viktor Krum in every single letter? Ginny doesn't do anything like that, does she?"  
  
"What, talk about Krum? Of course she doesn't. As far as I know she only got that one letter from him last summer."  
  
"That's not what I meant. I just meant that it's like Hermione does it on purpose. She brings him up because she knows it'll irritate me."  
  
"Looks like it worked, too."  
  
"Well, does Ginny pull anything like that on you?"  
  
Harry pretended to think about it. "No, I can't say that she does. Not that I'm going to tell you what she does say in her letters. But really, how do you know Hermione is even corresponding with Krum? Maybe she's just having you on."  
  
Ron seemed to consider this. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should call her on it. See what she says."  
  
"Yeah, you do that." Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling. He reckoned Hermione's next letter to Ron wasn't going to be very pleasant, but it served Ron right if he got into trouble with his girlfriend after what had just happened with his mother.  
  
Ron must have caught onto Harry's game. "So have you had any good talks with Dad lately?"  
  
"You know very well that I haven't."  
  
"You should just get it over with, you know. Then you can stop walking on eggshells around him."  
  
"You know, it's really weird, but I get the impression your dad would rather not have this talk with me, either. It's not like he's been searching me out or anything."  
  
"Probably Mum wants him to do it, and he'd rather not."  
  
"Probably. Listen, I've got to get this work done, all right? I don't want to go to bed too late."  
  
Ron was looking at Harry as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't quite sure how to begin. "Have you been sleeping all right lately?" he asked at last.  
  
"No worse than usual," Harry lied.  
  
"Come on, I've been sleeping in the same room with you since I got home. I've heard you thrashing around at night. Now what's up?"  
  
"I'm not sure. I've been having these dreams."  
  
Ron held up a hand. "Stop right there. I don't want to hear it if my sister is involved."  
  
"Not like that. I don't remember them. That's the thing. I keep waking up, and I know I've had a nightmare, but I can never recall what it's about. I'm sorry if I've been keeping you awake."  
  
"That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. You see, I've been thinking about getting my own flat. Nothing big, but. Well, it would make things easier if I wanted to have any visitors. I wouldn't have to worry about Mum wanting to tell me off about anything."  
  
"You've got a job now, and you're of age. Why wouldn't you move out if you're ready?"  
  
"Exactly. What I wanted to know was, do you want to go in on it with me? We could get a nice place with two of us to pay the rent."  
  
Harry sat and thought. Was he ready to leave the relative safety of the Burrow? If he was living on his own, he'd have to look after himself. And he hadn't learned to do a lot of what that would require by Muggle means. The Burrow had become like a haven to him. He was extremely grateful to Mrs Weasley for being willing to do his laundry and cook for him, but would he be able to do all that for himself? He knew he'd have to leave eventually, but he wasn't sure he was ready to do that just yet.  
  
"I don't know, Ron. How am I supposed to manage with no magic?"  
  
"It would be easier than being on your own, wouldn't it? And who cares if the place is spotless?"  
  
"We'll have to eat at some point."  
  
Ron merely shrugged at this, and Harry didn't feel like explaining that he just didn't think he was ready to take such a big step.  
  
"And I don't know how comfortable I'd feel if you had Hermione over all the time," he added, but Ron didn't react very much to this pronouncement. "And what if I decided to invite Ginny over."  
  
"Okay, you're right," Ron said quickly, giving Harry an funny look. "Perhaps it wasn't such a great idea after all. But I'm still thinking of moving out."  
  
"Just what is that look for, anyway?"  
  
"What look?"  
  
"That look you're giving me. Like you're a bit shocked and disgusted. Just what do you think I'm going to do with your sister?"  
  
"It had better not be anything bad, I can tell you that," said Ron sounding annoyed.  
  
"And just what do you know about it? You must have a very vivid imagination or have tried out some rather interesting things with Hermione if you're looking at me like that."  
  
Ron stared at Harry for a moment, his mouth working soundlessly, while the tips of his ears turned red.  
  
"What do you expect, Ron, when I mention dreams and you automatically assume they're those types of dreams?"  
  
"Well," Ron said, once he'd got his voice working, "I certainly don't have to sit here and take this."  
  
He picked up his parchment and left in a huff, leaving Harry to think that he'd sounded exactly like Hermione just now. "Who would ever have thought that she'd actually wear off on him?" he said to himself, chuckling and remembering the beginning of their first year, when Ron had called her a nightmare. "At least I can get my work done in peace now."  
  
To Be Continued.  
  
A/N: This chapter wasn't particularly kind to me. I had to re-write some things several times. Thanks especially to Marian for talking me through it, because I hate to rewrite. Please let me know what you think. And if anyone knows what nepeta cataria is, you might get a laugh.  
  
I had someone ask how long this was going to be. I have no idea. It's already taken me longer than I expected to get to this point. Ten more chapters maybe? But don't hold me to that. 


	16. Chapter 16

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Sixteen

__

a. k. a., The Talk

A/N: This is a guest chapter written by Maid Marian_._

"Harry, dear you're home early," Molly Weasley said as she stood at the cooker, preparing what smelled like another excellent meal for that night's dinner.

"Yes, I was at a breaking point, so Mr. Hill sent me home. Has there been any post?"

"No, dear, not today."

"All right, I'll just…" Harry began but was soon stopped by Mrs Weasley.

"Arthur is in his shed, I believe he wanted to talk to you about the Portkey to Sirius' house. Why don't you go out there now, and then when you're done with your talk you can help Arthur come in."

Harry froze on the spot; he had been avoiding this very situation for the past several weeks. It hadn't been an easy task, for he honestly liked Mr Weasley, but the last thing he wanted to do was have _that_ kind of talk with him. And although Harry knew he had no way of getting out of this, he tried to change the subject anyway. "Is his leg still bothering him?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I told him to sit down while he's in that infernal shed, but he never does. The other day I had to help him walk back in. Be a good lad, and go now. Supper will be ready soon," Mrs Weasley said with some despair in her voice.

Harry had no choice. He lowered his head and walked out the kitchen door. Hopefully Mr Weasley would be so pre-occupied with working on the Portkey, he'd forget to _talk_ to him. That's if Harry's luck held out… He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell.

~~~

Harry knocked on the old shed door, remembering the last time he had been in here. It had been the day after Ginny had talked some sense into him. The same day Ron had been Apparating all over the place trying to avoid Mrs Weasley because of his _"conjugal visit"_ remark. Harry smiled at the memory.

"Come!" Harry heard Mr Weasley call, and he opened the door.

"Harry, come in, come in. Watch the washing machine; I've been working on it. Oh, careful, careful, here let me move that," Mr Weasley said as he tried to move a large, strange-looking object. Clearly he was having difficulties trying to move it, and Harry moved quickly to give him a hand.

"Um… Mr Weasley, what is this?"

"I don't rightly know," he said, scratching his head. "One of my counterparts in the States sent this to me a few weeks back. I believe this is some sort of light, but I'm not sure what it does. I don't know why it has bars around the outside. I'm sure I'll work out what it is sooner or later." He laughed.

Harry chuckled too, but his nervousness started to show, as his hands became quite sweaty. He hid them in his pockets. "Mrs Weasley said you had a Portkey question for me."

"Yes, yes, well, actually I needed your watch. I thought I'd just add Sirius' house to the dial. Thought that might be a bit more convenient for you."

"Oh, yes, that would great. I wasn't sure if you could do that. I mean add Portkey stops to the watch," Harry said, trying to act nonchalantly as he handed the watch to Mr Weasley.

"Oh, I'm sure I could add a few more to the watch. You'd just have to tell me what stops you'd like," Mr Weasley said, eyeing Harry closely, as if he was waiting for Harry to ask. "Harry can you bring down those maps on that top shelf over there? I'm going to have to match the coordinates for Sirius' house on the Muggle and wizard maps. Since Sirius lives in a predominantly Muggle area, the wizarding maps don't show his town. We'll just have to match them up, and I can plug the co-ordinates in, and you'll be all set." Mr Weasley was eyeing him closely again.

Harry and Mr Weasley worked in silence for several minutes. Harry was fascinated with the procedures for the Portkey, but along with the co-ordinates, Mr Weasley had to charm the watch. Harry began to think that he was in the clear, since Mr Weasley was almost done with no sign of the talk forthcoming, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Harry, it's easy for me to add another stop. Are you sure you don't want me…"

"Um… no, no really, I can't think of any…"

"Hogsmeade?" 

If Harry could, he would have crawled into the washing machine and stayed there until spring. How could Mr Weasley just ask him that? Didn't he want him as far away from Ginny as Mrs Weasley obviously did? Was this a test? If he said yes, would Mr Weasley read him the riot act on the proper way his daughter was supposed to be treated? If he said no, would Mr Weasley call him a liar, and read him the riot act anyway?

"Harry, you don't have to worry, I'm not going to read you the riot act." He laughed when Harry gulped and turned red from his neck up. "I know what young kids get up to, and I'm pretty sure you and Ginny haven't got up to anything you shouldn't. And even if you have… Well, even though I'm her father, I can see how much you two love each other. I understand these things better than you think I do."

Harry couldn't have blushed any redder, and he groped around for a chair, as his knees were getting a little shaky. Mr Weasley must have noticed this; he Transfigured an old lawn mower into a bench for the two of them to sit on.

"You've been avoiding me. I'll assume you heard Molly mention something about a talk she wanted me to have with you." Mr Weasley smiled. "You don't have to answer, and I'm not here to embarrass you. But you have to help me here." He chuckled. "Molly's been after me to have this talk, and I can't lie to her. She has this uncanny knack of knowing when I try to lie to her," he laughed again. "So if you and I talk a bit, I can honestly say that we did, and both you and I are off the hook."

Harry had always liked Mr Weasley, and this was just another reason why. He could have made this hard on him, but he was being realistic, and trying to make it easier on both of them. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad.

"So, should I add Hogsmeade on to this watch?"

"Um… yes, but it's not what you think. I mean, well, I am going to the Winter Solstice Ball with Ginny, and the Portkey would come in handy. And… when they start having Hogsmeade weekends, I'd be able to go and visit Ginny for the day. I promise I won't use it any other time," Harry said as calmly as he could.

"That's fine," he smiled. "Here let's look at that map; I just want to make sure I remember the correct co-ordinates." 

Harry watched as Mr Weasley spoke the words to the incantation. As he did before with the co-ordinates for Sirius' home, he included the Hogsmeade numbers in the charm and gently waved his wand over the watch, expelling a soft blue light over the watch, which in turn, glowed for a few seconds. The colours of the charm were beautiful, but it gave him a pang in his stomach. The feelings the watch inspired were bittersweet: on one hand the idea of being able to see Ginny whenever he wanted gave him a warm feeling, but it was countered by the cold thought that he would never be able to do what Mr Weasley had just done.

"Harry, this won't work the same way as before, basically because I've added more stops," Mr Weasley explained. "It's still quite simple though. Just set the hands to where you want to go. Midnight for the Ministry of Magic, three o'clock for Hogsmeade, six o'clock for home, and 9 o'clock for Sirius. Once you've set the proper destination just close the watch cover, which will then activate the Portkey. I just have one more charm to perform and you'll be all set."

Mr Weasley worked quietly for a time, and Harry thought he was preparing himself to say something, which Harry didn't take as a good sign. 

"Harry, I hope you won't be put out with me or think I'm interfering in your life. Believe me, I would never interfere between you and Ginny, and neither would Molly," he chuckled. "Although I'm not sure you'd agree with that. Ginny's our daughter and we love her. And you Harry, you've been a part of this family for so long now…" His voice broke slightly, and he couldn't continue. 

Harry couldn't look at Mr Weasley. Just as he'd been choked up when Mrs Weasley had voiced those same thoughts weeks ago, he was again fighting to stay in control. 

Mr Weasley found his voice again. "Molly and I want you to know that you can come to us if you have any questions. You've turned out to be a fine man. It amazes me, and I don't mean that as a slight. You've not had the benefit of… proper adults in your life, except for when you were at Hogwarts."

"And here," Harry said, looking straight at Mr Weasley.

"Yes," he smiled. "Well, I'm sure Sirius would have been a fine role model, and I'm sure you'd prefer to talk to him about this. But I'm not sure he would be all that comfortable with it." He laughed nervously again. "To tell you the truth, I'm not all that comfortable with it, and I've done this six times already."

Harry was looking down at the floor. He really did not want to be here, but what could he do? He couldn't just walk out on Mr Weasley, not when he'd opened his house--hell his whole family--up to Harry. As bad as this was going to be--and Harry would have bet his last Knut this was going to be bad--he owed it to Mr and Mrs Weasley to listen. He raised his head and looked at Mr Weasley, showing him he was waiting for him to continue.

"I'm not really sure how to begin. I mean, obviously I'm not going to tell you what I told the other boys." Mr Weasley rubbed the back of his neck, which was the usual Weasley red. "I'm sure, if you were dating someone else I wouldn't even be here, but that's not the case. Ginny's not our only concern; you are too, Harry. We've seen another young couple move too fast with…" He rubbed his neck again. "With certain aspects of their relationship, and well, it didn't go well. That's to say the least; as a matter of fact, it ruined both their lives.

Harry could tell that this was not easy for Mr Weasley, so he didn't talk. He just waited for Mr Weasley to get his train of thought, but Harry's eyes never left his.

"I don't know if you know that Bill is named for my brother Bilius. He was two years behind Molly and me at Hogwarts. The year Molly and I left school Bilius began dating a girl." He rubbed his eyes. "Lucretia," he smiled. "She was a lovely girl. Anyone could tell how much they loved each other. At the end of their sixth year they…" He looked at Harry, and with a completely straight face said, "Took their relationship to that next level."

Harry shifted nervously. This wasn't as bad as he has thought it would be; it was worse. Once again he looked at Mr Weasley and waited for him to continue.

"My brother was my best mate. He was fun to be around, and he had a good head on his shoulders. He did fairly well in school, was made prefect in his fifth year, as did Lucretia. He was very good at Transfiguration, but Potions and Charms, that was another story." He shook his head and had a sad smile on his face. "They were in love, but they weren't stupid. The thought they'd taken the right precautions, but in the end they were wrong. Lucretia became pregnant that June."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was thinking back to Ginny's last night at the Burrow. He had wanted to make love to her, and now he realised what an idiot he had been. He'd never even thought of birth control, and he didn't even know if Ginny had thought about it. That wasn't the subject you brought up to your girlfriend while you were sitting by the fire in her living room. What if they had made love? What if Ginny had become pregnant? It didn't bear thinking about, and now his thoughts were pulled back to Mr Weasley, who was speaking again.

"…They married that summer. It was very hard for them. Bilius couldn't get a good paying job, and they weren't able to afford the best medical services. In the end…" Harry could clearly see tears in Mr Weasley's eyes, and he watched him wipe away all traces of them. "They lost the baby. Even after that, they didn't have an easy time. Bilius died a few years later, and Lucretia a few years after that. I want you to know though…" He looked directly at Harry. "They loved each other, till the very end. Even though they had ruined their lives, and their married life was filled with strife, they always loved each other."

Harry saw the pain in Mr Weasley's eyes, and he turned away to give the man time to compose himself. He sat there, and realised why Mrs Weasley had hovered over them all summer. How could he blame her? She didn't want them to go through what Mr Weasley's brother had gone through.

"Harry, I'm sorry about that. I hadn't expected to tell you that. The point I was trying to make was really about potions and charms. I don't look at you and Ginny and see my brother and Lucretia, but I know Molly does. She mentioned it to me, so I guess it was on my mind."

"It's okay, Mr Weasley," Harry said sheepishly. "I understand what you were trying to say. I just want to let you know, Ginny and I haven't taken that step yet. So you really don't have to worry."

Mr Weasley laughed at Harry was taken aback by it. "Harry, I'll worry about you and Ginny till I'm old and grey. I'm a parent; it comes with the territory."

They sat there in silence for a while. They seemed to have made peace with the idea of this talk, but Harry knew there was more to come. He just hoped it wouldn't be as heart-wrenching as this last bit of information.

"This is very hard for me, Harry, but I have to ask. Have you and Ginny discussed birth control?"

"I told you we haven't…"

"Yes, I know what you said," he interrupted. "But can you sit there and tell me you've never been on the verge. That the thought of that step hasn't come up?"

Harry knew Mr Weasley knew the answers to those questions. He had never lied to Mr Weasley, and he wasn't about to start. "There were a couple of occasions that we almost… but we didn't," he said nervously.

"It's okay, I'm not upset. I'm not going to tell you that I'm fine with the idea of you and Ginny having a sexual relationship. It's just that I'm not naïve, and I know it happens. And if there's a chance of it happening, I want you two to be prepared and protected."

This was just getting worse by the minute. Harry decided right there and then, if Mr Weasley brought out any samples or books he was getting up and leaving. He didn't care what anyone said. He prayed to a higher power for this to end or for a hole to open up and swallow him on the spot. He waited another minute, sighing when no hole appeared anywhere nearby. He turned to Mr Weasley who had been waiting for him to look at him again.

"I don't know what to tell you about birth control. If you still had your powers, I'd give you a book…"

Harry started to choke. Any minute now he was going to hyperventilate.

"Harry, son, are you okay?"

"Yes, I just swallowed the wrong way."

"As I was saying, there are many books with contraceptive charms in them, as well as potions books. But even the potions require some sort of magic intervention. Neither of those options are open to you. I have no idea what Muggles do. I'm asking you to be responsible and to look into this," he said matter-of-factly. 

When Harry didn't answer, Mr Weasley's voice seemed to take on a different tone. "I know you love each other, but are you willing to risk a small baby's life for one night of passion?"

"No, of course not! You're right. I just don't know anything about… well what Muggles do about… that. It's not like my uncle ever talked to me about this. I'm sure it was his way of seeing if I was as worthless as he thinks I am, just another thing he could throw in my face," Harry said sarcastically, but then he looked at Mr Weasley, who didn't look quite convinced of Harry's ignorance of the subject of Muggle birth control methods. "I mean, I've heard some things, we learned a bit about it in primary school, and you hear the other Muggle-borns talk."

"Really! What have you heard?" It seemed Mr Weasley love for anything Muggle had switched on and his interest was now piqued.

Harry was horrified. "I mean I don't really remember what they taught in school. And I really don't know if what I've heard is the truth or even what I should do," he sputtered. He then breathed deeply and said, "I'll look into it, I promise. I would never hurt Ginny; you know that, don't you?"

"I know that. I can see how much you love her, and respect her. I just want you to be careful and prepared for whatever changes that the future will bring you."

It seemed that Mr Weasley had come to the end of his talk, and then the most incomprehensible thing happened. Harry asked a question.

"Mr Weasley, sir. Um... what about Ginny?"

"Ginny? What about her?"

"Can she… I mean to say, not that I won't keep my promise, because I will. But can she do anything, or is it the wizard's responsibility to um… you know?"

Mr Weasley laughed and Harry cursed whatever demon had momentarily possessed his mind and made him ask that question. Mr Weasley seemed to ponder the reply. Harry didn't understand that; wasn't it a yes or no answer? Either witches helped with birth control or they didn't. Why, oh why, did he have to open his mouth? This talk had gone in different directions, some of which Harry hoped he'd forget soon, and it seemed Mr Weasley had finished, but Harry just hadn't been able to leave it there.

"I would assume most witches are the primary decision-makers when it comes to birth control. Although I don't believe Molly brought up that particular point when she talked with Ginny," he smiled. "I believe her stance is more towards abstinence."

"I think you're right," Harry agreed shyly.

"Contraceptive charms are not supposed to be that difficult to master. The potions may be a little more complicated, but they are just as effective. Well…" he hesitated. "In most cases, that is."

"Most cases?"

"Harry, do you know what I do at the Ministry?"

"You work for the Misuse of Muggles Artefacts office," he said, a bit confused.

"Yes," he smiled. "But do you know what it entails?"

"Um… not really."

"Well, most of it is somewhat tedious, I'll admit, but I work mainly with charms. I have to reverse charms that witches and wizards have placed on Muggle items. I also have to re-enchant wizarding items others have tampered with. Some would think that a simple _Reverso_ charm, or even _Finite Incantatem_ would do it, but it's not that simple," he said, somewhat embarrassed.

"Yes, I'd imagine it's not," Harry said confused, not knowing where this conversation was heading, and somewhat worried about that fact.

"I was top of my year in Charms at Hogwarts," he said proudly. "I even received the highest NEWT in Charms that Hogwarts has ever awarded. That's what really got me into the Ministry. The first department I worked for was a branch of the Auror division. I would go into raids with the Aurors and look for tampered items. Back during the Dark Lord's first reign, the Death Eaters took pleasure in a different type of Muggle torture. They would bewitch items and send them out into the Muggle world. Many times, it resulted in severe injury and even death. They enchanted knives to stab the Muggles as they were using them to cook. Tea pots that would explode sending scalding water onto unsuspecting people. They even…" Mr Weasley stopped and composed himself before continuing. "They even charmed Muggle money. Coins. Muggle children would feel compelled to put them in their mouths and many times these poor children choked."

Harry was shocked, but reprimanded himself. Why should anything the Death Eaters did shock him? After all, they were inhuman. He'd never stopped to consider that Mr Weasley might have been that involved in the first war.

"I'm sorry again, Harry. I seem to be drifting off into deep topics when I'm really just trying to make a simple point," he said, embarrassed.

"That's all right, go on."

"The point I was making was you don't have to be a top student in Charms to work the contraceptive charms. But, I was a top student, _the_ top student, and…" He chuckled. "Well, I have seven children. Does that tell you anything about my prowess with those particular charms?"

"I don't…"

"Molly and I were married two years after we left school. Bill arrived two years later, but he wasn't our first, so to speak. Molly had two early misses before Bill." He stopped at the confused look on Harry's face. "I don't really know how to explain this. A lot of women can become pregnant, but nature will take over very early on, and they lose the baby, most of the time before they even know they're pregnant. That happened to us twice. It upset us, but we weren't ready for children yet, so in a way it was better. But we realised that our protection method wasn't working. So Molly added a potion along with the charm. Molly," he said proudly, "was top of her year in potions. A very capable witch. She worked in an apothecary before Bill was born. Well, you would think with a charm and a potion, we'd be safe."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"So, have you met my son Bill," he laughed. "He was conceived while we used both methods, as was Charlie."

"I don't understand, what went wrong?" Harry clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked that he'd voiced that thought aloud. At the same time he felt a tinge of sadness to recall that Charlie has been conceived when all odds were against it happening, but that hadn't stopped the killing curse from getting him.

Mr Weasley laughed at Harry's forwardness. "We don't know, but we have an idea." He smiled at Harry's inquisitive look. "Do you know Molly had six brothers, just like Ginny?"

"Um… no, I didn't… she had?"

"Well, four of her younger brothers are still with us. They live far away, she corresponds with them often, but she doesn't get to see them as much as she'd like. Two of her brothers, Freddy and Georgie…" A sad smile appeared across his face. "Were killed in the first war with Voldemort." He took a deep breath. "She's the oldest. I guess that's where her mothering skills come from," he smiled.

"She's good at it," Harry said, and then blushed.

"Yes, she is. And I think she was meant to have a lot of children. I come from a large family, too. I think when the two of us came together we were destined to have a large family, no matter what protection we used. "

"Oh," Harry said, embarrassed.

"I think Ginny may take after her mother. You may not see it, but she is so much like Molly, it's scary sometimes. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, of course I…Oh… Oh… you mean…" Harry stumbled over his words, once he realised what Mr Weasley meant. And yes, this talk had just become worse. Ginny was like her mum, so most likely she'd have a lot of kids. And if she was like her mum, it didn't matter what protection she used, she'd probably have babies even when she wasn't prepared for them. And if they did anything, even if they were careful, she could get pregnant, and that wouldn't be good, because she'd have to raise the baby on her own. After all, he'd surely be dead at the hands of her brothers. Wild thoughts were racing through Harry's mind, and he barely realised that Mr Weasley was having a good chuckle at his expense. 

"I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to scare you. I really only wanted to warn you. Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. But you did find something that worked, I mean… Well Ginny's your last…" Harry paled; he could not believe he'd just said that.

"Well," Mr Weasley chuckled again, and gave Harry the impression that he was enjoying Harry's prying questions, and subsequent mortified looks. "Even before Ginny was born, Molly decided enough was enough. No matter what the baby was, this one was going to be our last. The Medi-wizard took care of things for us."

Harry had a slight idea of what he meant, but he kept his mouth shut for once. But not for long, for something was bothering him. If Mrs Weasley had babies so easily then why was there such a long break in between Charlie and Percy? Charlie was at least six years older than Percy, which didn't make sense to Harry.

"Mr Weasley?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Did Mrs Weasley… I mean, I was just wondering. Did she have more um… misses? I mean Charlie and Percy…" What was wrong with him tonight? How could he ask that? And from the look on Mr Weasley's face he wasn't too happy that Harry had asked the question either. "I'm sorry, don't answer that, I shouldn't…"

"No, it's all right. Seems after tonight, I won't have too many secrets from you, will I Harry?" he laughed sadly.

"No, really, no, you don't have to."

"No, I think I do. As a matter of fact, Molly and I where going to talk to all of you kids, about this especially after recent events. I don't think the others will mind if I tell you now."

Harry had no idea what Mr Weasley was talking about, but he realised Mr Weasley needed to tell him something important, and he waited for the older man to begin.

"Two years after Charlie was born, Molly was expecting again," he chuckled. "I told you she was meant to have babies." He laughed again at Harry's blush. "It was during Voldemort's first rise to power. The Dark Lord was getting stronger, and he was recruiting Death Eaters at an alarming rate. I was still working with the Auror division, but I had been moved into a new group, the Committee for Experimental Charms. We were trying to develop charms to protect against the unforgivables. The premise was based on the Fidelius Charm, which…"

"I know what the Fidelius Charm does," Harry said bitterly.

"I'm sorry, Harry, of course you do."

Harry composed himself, and asked Mr Weasley to continue.

"Well, if a charm could block locator charms, maybe we could make one to block controlling and pain-inflicting curses. I was working on it with my partner. Julius Farmer was a good man. We must have been getting close to a workable charm, and someone had let the Death Eaters know we were getting close." He stopped and looked at Harry's confused expression. "Yes, there were spies in the Ministry back then too. We didn't know who they were, but they were keeping a careful watch on everything that was going on. We also had spies, and we got word that they were interested in Julius and me."

"What did you do?"

"I had Molly and the children placed under the Fidelius Charm, and I was preparing to go into hiding myself." Once again Mr Weasley put his hands to his face, as if he were trying to rub away some old pain he was reliving.

"What happened?"

"Nothing to me, at that point. I had acted quickly enough, and Molly and the children were safe. Julius wasn't as lucky." He stared out into space for quiet some time. "Julius and I were here at the Burrow, collecting paperwork we needed, and then we'd be off to his home before we went into hiding. We Apparated to his house," he faltered. "There was a dark green skull in the sky above the front door. We had never seen anything like it before, but we knew it wasn't good. We ran into the house and found his wife, and his small daughter. They were dead."

Harry didn't move; he didn't say a word. He'd never realised all the horrors Mr Weasley had seen in his life. How did this man go on? He seemed to be such a happy-go-lucky person. Harry's respect for Mr Weasley increased tenfold in a matter of moments.

"I went into hiding, while Julius settled his affairs; he joined me a few weeks later. We were working morning, noon and night, and we were getting close. Then there was a security breach. We were found, and a fight ensued. Julius didn't survive the attack. It must have been the stress; he started flinging unforgivables at the Death Eaters. He killed two of them before he was killed."

"What happened to you?"

"I was doing my best without using an unforgivable. Even though the Aurors had been given permission to use them, and technically I was under their jurisdiction, I couldn't do it. I had lived my life on the side of good, I wasn't going to save my skin by using dark magic." He paused. "I was wrong, though, I learned that the hard way, and paid a very steep price." He looked at Harry and said, "Sometimes you have to fight the dark with dark magic. Sometimes that's the only thing that will work. I realised that it doesn't matter how you defeat the dark side, just as long as you do it."

"So, what happened?"

"I was captured. They weren't interested in killing me or Julius for that matter. They wanted the charms we were working on. To make an extremely long story short, I was held for almost two years. The Ministry thought I was dead, so they weren't looking for me. It just so happened they stormed the building I was being held in, and I was rescued."

"That must have been horrible for you and Mrs Weasley."

"It was. With all the strain, she lost the baby… a girl. I think that's another reason why Molly's so protective of Ginny."

"So, everything was fine, once you came home?"

"Not exactly. I was injured. My leg…" He stopped and looked at Harry.

Harry spoke, but hesitantly, not wanting to assume too much. "I thought there was something. Mrs Weasley was very upset when you got hurt. And your leg hasn't healed yet. I wondered, but… Mrs Weasley always seemed to change the subject."

"She doesn't like to remember those times. It was very hard on her. She was raising two young boys on her own. She had no income to speak of. She mortgaged or sold anything she could, just to survive. I really don't know how she did it, all the while proclaiming I was still alive. She never lost hope." He brushed yet another tear from his eye. "She's an amazing woman, and if my Ginny is half the woman she is, you'll be a very lucky man."

Harry wasn't going to disagree with that. He already knew he was a lucky man. Now he realised they both were.

"That's why there's such an age difference between Charlie and Percy. I was gone for a while, and then I had a major rehabilitation to undertake."

"What happened to your leg?"

"Among other things, the Death Eaters used a Severing Charm on my leg. At first it was only the tendons, and then when that didn't get my support, they severed the actual bone. That's why my leg isn't healing properly. It took weeks before I had proper medical attention, and it never quite healed. I didn't have a limp, but I've always had some pain."

"I'm sorry for everything."

"Harry, this was before you were even born," he said firmly. 

"I know. It's not that. I'm sorry you had to have that happen to you. You and Mrs Weasley didn't deserve that."

"In all honesty, we were the lucky ones. We survived."

"How do you do it? How can you have such horrible things happen to you, and still be happy?"

"Easy. I have Molly." He stood up, as did Harry, and he stretched with some pain, and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, but not for support. And Harry thought he had Ginny; maybe that was all he needed to be happy, to survive.

It seemed that all that could be said had been. Mr Weasley rolled up the maps, and Harry placed them back on the shelf. Harry looked at his watch and smiled. He wasn't going to dwell on sad thoughts. He thought about the time he would place the hour hand on three o'clock and be in Hogsmeade with Ginny. He was brought out of his dream when Mr Weasley suggested they go in for dinner, which he commented must be stone cold. They had been out in the shed for two hours. Harry placed his hand on Mr Weasley's elbow and guided him towards the Burrow. He thought Mr Weasley might be embarrassed by this gesture, but if he was, he said or did nothing that made Harry release his arm. 

"Mr Weasley, I really have to apologise to you," Harry said nervously as they walked on the dimly lighted path towards the kitchen door. 

"Whatever for?"

"I really shouldn't have asked all those questions. I mean it's really none of my business. And, well, I'm sorry; I hope you're not upset with me."

"Harry…" Mr Weasley shook his head. "I have to tell you. I wasn't looking forward to this talk on so many levels," he laughed. "I had no idea what to say to you, and I wasn't sure if you'd resent me for butting into your life."

"You weren't butting in," he burst out, and then continued shyly, "um… sorry."

"I'm glad you feel that way. I want you to know, you can always come to me and ask anything you want. The other boys…" He laughed again. "Well, let's just say, some asked more questions, some less, and one just sat there, his face red the entire time. As a matter of fact, that one didn't talk to me for almost a whole month afterwards. So you're ahead on that score."

"Thanks, Mr Weasley." He looked at the older man with the utmost respect and love. "Thanks for everything."

The two of them entered the quiet kitchen and sat at the table. Mrs Weasley must have gone to bed, but she'd left the meal for them on the table, warming charms still in place. They ate in companionable silence, and it was comforting. Neither one was embarrassed or upset. They had said all there was to say for one night, hell, for a whole year. But something inside Harry told him he wouldn't be surprised if he and Mr Weasley shared many more talks in the years to come, and in a strange way, Harry was looking forward to them.

~~~~

Molly Weasley had been in her upstairs bedroom for well over an hour now, her thoughts running wild and unable to imagine what Arthur and Harry could be talking about. This was getting ridiculous. The two men had been out in that god-forsaken shed for two hours, and they'd been sitting downstairs for yet another hour. She couldn't hear any voices, and she was afraid to venture down to the kitchen. What if Arthur was still talking to the boy? What if Harry was asking questions? She didn't dare interrupt, although she had to laugh about the idea of Harry asking questions. She knew Harry very well, and if she was right--and she knew she was--Harry would listen to Arthur and never utter a sound, let alone ask a question. 

Her biggest concern was Arthur's approach to the subject at hand. She had some doubts as to Arthur's real feelings on this talk. After all, she hadn't been thrilled with the talks he'd had with the boys. She'd had a fit when she'd learned he had told Bill to use protection. Not only that, he'd given the boy a book on contraceptive charms. Arthur's thinking was that it was a natural occurrence and he'd rather his boys protect themselves and whatever girl they might be with. Where he came up with these ideas, she had no clue. What was wrong with abstinence? Why couldn't the boys just settle down with nice girls and get married? Percy had gone that route, but he'd always been such a good boy.

But she was sure he'd never have that same talk with Harry. After all, Harry was dating Ginny, his own daughter. Didn't he want her pure, untouched? Of course he did! She was positive that Harry Potter was going to get a much different talk tonight. 

He was a good boy who would listen to Arthur and respect their wishes, even though the boy had been avoiding Arthur at all costs, to an extent that it was becoming quite comical. As much as she hated to admit it, Arthur seemed thrilled that Harry had been avoiding him for weeks. That was one reason why she'd taken matters into her own hands. Harry had mentioned again that he'd like to go visit his godfather, and he would need Arthur to make him a Portkey. So when the opportunity came, with Harry's early arrival home, she'd sent him to Arthur's shed. She hadn't been sure what Arthur was fiddling with in there tonight, but once Harry had got there, she'd had every confidence that Arthur would talk to the boy.

She was now trying to find a chore to occupy her time, while she waited for Arthur to come up to bed. The linen cupboard needed to be sorted out, she thought, and she set to it until she heard the footsteps on the stairs.

"Mrs Weasley, do you need any help there?" Harry said. He couldn't have missed the contents of the linen cupboard out in the corridor.

"Harry, dear, oh thank you, no. That's quite all right. Have you and Arthur eaten?"

"Oh, yes, thanks, it was delicious. I set the plates in the sink; Mr Weasley couldn't remember the proper cleaning spell…" 

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll take care of them in the morning."

Before Harry had the chance to walk past her and up to his room, Molly decided to make sure that he and Arthur had indeed talked.

"Harry, did Mr Weasley have a talk with you tonight?"

"Um, yes." Harry's face went completely red; as a matter of fact, he looked somewhat frightened.

"Good, I'm glad. You understand it's not that we're prying, but we want the best for you and for Ginny."

"Yes, I understand." He was flattened up against the wall and looked as if he was trying to edge his way past.

"And I hope Arthur made it clear that we'd prefer for the two of you to wait."

"Um…"

"You're both so young, and there's really no rush. And I know that you'd respect Ginny more--not that you don't now. But you'll see as you get older, you'll look back and know how special it was to wait. And I know from my own experience, that I felt revered, cherished, that Arthur respected my wishes." 

Molly wondered if Harry was feeling well. His face was flushed, and he looked a bit unsteady on his feet. She had the strange thought that this was the first time he was hearing any of this. But that couldn't be right, could it?

"Are you feeling well dear? You look at bit flushed," she asked cautiously.

"Um… yes, I'm… a bit tired."

"Harry?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasley?"

"Arthur did talk to you about your relationship with Ginny, didn't he?"

"Yes, yes, he did." The boy had gone quite pale now. 

"He did emphasise the fact that we would prefer you and Ginny abstain from…"

"Molly, spring cleaning in December? What brought this on?" Arthur asked as he climbed the last step onto the landing.

"Oh, Arthur, you should have called me. I would have come down to help you," she said, concerned.

"I'm fine. Harry, why don't you go to bed?" he chuckled "I think you've talked yourself out."

"Arthur!"

"Molly, the boy is tired, let him be. Go ahead, Harry; we'll see you in the morning. Come on Molly, I'll help you finish this, and then we can go to bed."

Arthur and Molly worked together quietly, placing the linens and toiletries back in the cupboard. Molly eyed her husband as he levitated the towels onto the shelf. If he thought he was getting out of talking to her, he was sadly mistaken. She was going to find out exactly what he'd said to that boy. She'd let him fall into a false sense of security and when he thought he was in the clear, she'd attack. 

~~~

"Come on, love, let's go to bed," she said tenderly. "Do you need anything? An extra pillow? Heating cloth for your leg?" she said as she closed and locked the door, then placed a silencing charm on the room.

"No dear, thank you," he said groggily.

The two lay in there bed, Molly waiting until Arthur was just about to nod off, before speaking. "Arthur, what exactly did you and Harry talk about tonight?

"Oh, well the subject we talked about," he said nervously.

"Yes, that's what you said you would do, but for some reason I don't think you did."

"Molly, it's late. I said I'd talk to him, and I did and…"

"Yes, but what did you say? Did you tell him that he and Ginny should abstain?"

"Well… the subject of abstinence did come up," he said with some strain in his voice.

"And what did he say?"

"Well, if you must know, I think his exact words were _I think you're right_." He rolled over on his side so that she couldn't see his face.

"Really, that's wonderful. Did that come up right away?"

"Oh, um, no, I think… well, we talked about the Portkey first. I added Sirius' home and Hogsmeade to his… watch," the last word said very softly, so much so, Molly nearly didn't hear him.

"You added Hogsmeade onto his watch? Why? Why on earth would you do that?" She sat up quickly. "Please turn around and look at me; I would like to know why you did that."

"He's going to Hogsmeade for the dance, I just thought…"

"Why couldn't you just charm a rock? Why did you have to make it so permanent?"

"Well, Hogsmeade is a useful stop to have, and besides, he'll most likely be going to visit Ginny, once the weekend visits start." His voice was almost pleading.

"I don't like it, Arthur, not one bit. What else did you talk about?" Her voice had become a bit more forceful.

"A lot of things Molly." He sat up as well. "I told him about Bilius and Lucretia."

"Oh, Arthur." Her anger faded. "That must have been very hard for you. I'm sorry I brought that up."

"No, don't worry. Harry at least understands why you feel the way you do." He smiled shyly at her.

"What do you mean, he understands the way_ I _feel?" The irritation was beginning to come out in her voice.

"I mean, I just meant…"

"You told him it was okay, didn't you? You told him the same thing that you told the boys. I was furious when you told our own sons to protect themselves and no more! But now you tell Harry, who's like one of my own, that it's all right with you if he has sex with our daughter. Not just some other poor parent's daughter, but our own little girl!" She was livid now. "What could you have told him about protection? You couldn't have given him that damn charms book. What could you have possibly told him?"

"Molly, calm down, he'll hear you," Arthur pleaded.

"He won't hear a thing. I locked the door and silenced the room before I got into bed. I had a feeling we'd be having a fight. Not this fight of course, but a fight no less. Your own daughter, Arthur, how could you?"

"Because she is my daughter, and I love her, and I love him. I want them happy, and I want them protected. They _love_ each other, Molly; this is not some school-girl crush. We've had this conversation. I don't know why you can't see it." His voice was rising to a level that she had rarely heard him use. "Do you see the way he looks at her? He is devoted to her. He would give his life for her. And she would do the same for him. I told him to look into protection methods that he can use now. I don't want what happened to my brother to happen to them. Not to any of our children." He paused to clear his throat somewhat. "I know you don't approve of the way I handled things with the boys. But telling them to stay virgins is not going to stop babies from being made. And who knows where that could lead? It can be joyous or disastrous. I want my children happy, I want them safe, but most of all, I want them alive." 

She was speechless. She simply could not understand his thinking. This was his own daughter, his only daughter! Didn't he want the best for her? Didn't he want her happy? "What are you staring at?" 

"Nothing," he said.

"No, tell me, you just gave me the strangest look," she said annoyed. 

"It's just…well you looked just like your mum just now…" He broke off suddenly, his expression showing the mistake he'd just made.

"I…" She couldn't get the words out. She was shocked. If she thought about it, she knew that he hadn't meant it the way she had taken it. She felt the tears begin to flow from her eyes, and she turned her back on him. She didn't want to talk to him; she didn't want to talk about _her_. 

"Molly," he said softly. "Molly, dear, I didn't mean…you know I don't think…Molly please turn around." He squeezed her shoulder, trying to pull her towards him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You're not like her. You never were. It was a thoughtless thing to say. Please Molly... " His hand was still on her, caressing her softly.

"Arthur," she said with her back still towards him, "I'm not mad. I don't want to talk about it. I know you didn't mean it in a bad way. Or…I hope you didn't."

"Molly, turn around. I need to see you."

She did, even though she hated herself for listening to him. She didn't want him to see her like this. Weak. Wounded. The way her mother had always made her feel.

"I'm sorry," he said as he wiped the tears from her eyes, and then pulled her into his arms. "I'm a cad. I should have never said that," he continued, as he stroked her back. "You're such a strong woman; I forget sometimes that you've had so much pain. Please forgive me?"

She moved away from him and gave him a small smile. She touched his face with her hand. "There's nothing to forgive. You didn't mean anything by it, but I need you to tell me something. I want the truth. How do I remind you of her?"

She could tell he didn't want to answer, but he must have thought it better to tell her. "You are like her, but not in the bad ways. She was strong and had high principles, and she very rarely changed her mind when it was set. I see you doing that with Ginny and Harry. I know you want the best for them, but what was best for us might not be what they need. You can't control them and hope they'll love you for it. Ginny is just as strong as you--more so, I think. I'd hate to not have her in our lives because we couldn't let her live her life as she saw fit."

Molly lay there thinking of his words. She soon became lost in her thoughts, back to the last time she saw her mother. 

"Where are you Molly?" he asked softly, pulling her back to him.

"Thinking about when Ginny was born."

"Molly…"

"No, my god, it's been seventeen, almost eighteen years… I can't believe it's been so long. She grew up so fast…" Molly stopped and shook herself mentally, wondering where that thought had come from. "I still haven't told you, " she went on. "I know you wondered, although I know you were more than glad to see her back," she said sarcastically.

"It's your business, you don't…"

"No, I think I need to." She smiled at him and then kissed him sweetly. "I don't regret it, and I never will. Don't ever think I do. "

"She had just come into the room, this room; I was lying here nursing Ginny. Believe me she was the last person I wanted to see just then. You remember how much grief she gave us when we told her I was expecting again." She stopped, and it was as if time were pulling her back to April 30th 1981.

__

"Well, what is it?" her mother said, as if Ginny were an animal or book.

"The baby is a girl, and her name is Ginny." 

She stood there and tutted. "Hopefully this one will make you stop. You can't afford the ones you have, and why you want any more of that man's children, I have no idea. How are you going to clothe it? You can't put the boys' cast-offs on her. Although by the looks of your youngest, those clothes are so old, you can't tell what they were originally. Honestly, Margaret Anne Miller, what were you thinking, having another baby, especially with that man?"

"Mother, if I were you, I'd not say another word.

"Margaret Anne Miller…" she began again as if she was about to give an order.

"Don't call me that! That is not my name. My name is Molly Weasley. It has been for sixteen years, and it will be for the rest of my life. So you'd better get that through your head. I'll have all the babies I want. And I'll make love to my husband every day if I want. You have no say in my life, Mother."

The next thing Molly knew, she was holding her daughter in one arm, and the side of her face with her other hand. "You hit me…"

"How dare you?" her mother said in her usual overbearing, mean voice. "I am your mother and you will never speak to me that way again. This is his fault. You've changed since you met him. I had such high hopes for you, Margaret; I thought you'd make something of yourself. He's only brought you down. I used to pray that they'd find his body all those years ago. Everything would have been much simpler he had the good sense to just die. I kept telling you to stop worrying about him. But no, you couldn't get on with your life; you mortgaged this rat hole and kept waiting for him to come back. Then when he does turn up, he's a mess, completely broken! You should have cast him off then. You and your pride, honestly, look what it's got you. Five more babies in as many years, absolutely disgusting." Then she continued in an even more nasty, belittling tone, "At least this one is a girl. I'll call the Medi-wizard in right now and have this problem fixed, and don't worry I'll pay for it."

"Who do you think you are? How dare you come into my house and insult my husband? You don't like him, well that's just too damned bad, isn't it, Mother?" She was in a rage now. "I can't believe my own mother would be so heartless to pray for my husband's death. What did it matter to you anyway? It wasn't as if you were here for me during that time. When I needed money for the boys, did you help me? No, you turned me away. I had to go to Gringotts and mortgage my home. When the bills from St Mungo's started coming in, and while we lived without any income to speak of for two years, did you help me Mother? NO!" she screamed. "You told me to leave him, and my sons. So again I had to go to the Goblins. Do you know what it's like having to give half your pay to the Goblins each month, Mother? We'll be doing that for the next twenty years, but it doesn't matter. I'd do it again. I have Arthur and I have my sons, and now my daughter." Her voice became deathly quiet. "And if you had helped me nine years ago, I might have another daughter. Did you hate me or Arthur that much? I asked you to get the Medi-wizard that night. Why didn't you call?" 

"Babies, is that all you think about? You could have been someone, Margaret."

"You had seven of us, why is that so different?

"Your father and I could afford to have children. We didn't live in a rat's nest. We are looked upon with respect in the community," she said haughtily. "Your father's family is one of the oldest in our world. 

"So is Arthur's. His family traces as far back as Daddy's family.

"Of course it does, you fool. But there's one difference. Your father's family were noble, while your husband's were peasants, and they still are. As your children are and always will be."

"Get out," Molly said fury in her eyes.

"What did you say to me, Margaret?"

"I said, get out. Get out of my house. Get out of my life. I don't ever want to see you, hear from you, or have any word of you," she said coldly.

"If I leave now, you are dead to me, Margaret. I will never speak to you again, for as long as I live."

"Mother, I've been dead to you for years now. Get out of my house."

Molly was crying in earnest now. The pain that had been bottled up so long was spilling out; the dam had finally burst. Arthur comforted her by holding her, and rocking her gently. It wasn't until the sobs subsided that he dared talk to her.

"I'm sorry, Molly, I'm sorry she hurt you so much. You're not like her. You're kind and caring and loving. You're a wonderful mother, and I know you only have their best interests at heart," he said.

"I know, but I can be overbearing and bossy too. I never wanted to be like her. And now look at me. My daughter is of age, she can make her own choices, and she's made a wonderful choice. He is a good boy… a good man," she corrected herself. "I can't say that I'll tell them to go and be together, but I will try not to meddle and I will give them time for themselves. I want her in my life Arthur, I need her there."

"I know you do." He hugged her tightly.

"I do love them, all of them; I'll try to control myself, and my opinions."

"You're a great mum, and an even better wife. You only do what you do, because you love them." Arthur leaned down and kissed her tenderly. "I don't deserve you, and I never did."

No more words were needed after that. She kissed him again, and held him close to her, forgetting the past for now and remembering only how much she loved her husband. For that is what had held them together through all the lean times, through all the fear and uncertainty. Her love for him was as strong today as it had been all those years ago at school, and she wanted to spend the rest of the night reminding him of that fact.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: The idea for using a Severing Charm to injure Arthur was inspired by Lady Chi. She did something similar in "Tested in Fire_" and has kindly given Marian and I permission to use the idea. So there you have the Arthur back story. We had originally thought of writing it as a separate story, but with June 21 looming on the horizon, we'd like to get this story finished first before it's sent off to A/U land._

Oh, and nepeta cataria_ is catnip._


	17. Chapter 17

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Seventeen

Harry raised a hand for what seemed the hundredth time and nervously tried to pat down his unruly hair. It was of no use. His hair stubbornly persisted in standing on end. He sighed. Normally he didn't give much thought to how his hair looked -- it was naturally messy, and he could accept that -- but tonight of all nights, he thought he'd like it to lie flat for once.

Ron banged on the door to the tiny bathroom. "Come on, Harry! It's time to go!"

"I'll be out in a moment," Harry called back. One last look in the mirror, one last attempt to smooth his hair (it sprung back up mockingly), one last check of his pockets. Yes, he had everything.

He emerged from the bathroom to find Ron standing in his navy blue dress robes, his arms crossed over his chest. "We're going to be late," he said. "What took you so long?"

"Just keep your shirt on, Ron. Hermione isn't going anywhere. She's still going to be up at school when we get there." Harry took a moment to brush down his own dress robes of deep crimson and grabbed his cloak. "Let's go."

He and Ron had arrived at the Three Broomsticks about an hour earlier to discover the room that Ron's mother had reserved for them was all they'd been expecting: very small with two extremely narrow, slightly rickety single beds. Ron had smirked and raised an eyebrow at Harry when he saw it. Harry had briefly considered asking Madam Rosmerta for another room, but he wasn't sure he wanted to in front of Ron. He'd remembered that Ron preferred to turn a blind eye to the fact that Harry was going to be free to bring Ginny back here for the night. 

In any case it had looked as if asking for a different room would be futile. Madam Rosmerta had been in a very good mood, and it had become apparent from her talk that she'd rented out all her rooms for the night due to the ball. "First time I've had them all rented in ages," she'd commented. "Since well before… Well. You were both there."

Harry hadn't really looked at her when they'd first arrived, but as she spoke he'd noticed how much older she looked, as if the image he'd retained of her from the day of the battle had become permanently engraved on her features. Although the Three Broomsticks had been on the opposite end of the village from all the explosions, it had not escaped the battle completely unscathed. She'd had to make repairs, and she'd had to pay for those repairs somehow. 

As they went back down the stairs and through the common room, Harry could see it was rather empty of patrons, in direct contrast to his memories of Hogsmeade weekends during his years at Hogwarts. Even on those days when throngs of students hadn't descended on the village, Harry had always supposed Madam Rosmerta did a brisk business. When he'd stopped in last Christmas while looking for Ginny the day she'd been taken by Lucius Malfoy, there had to have been more patrons in the pub than there were tonight.

Harry and Ron stepped out into the frosty evening and began to walk towards Hogwarts. The air was brisk and carried a hint of coming snow with it. The village was silent and dark, too dark to reveal the changes that had taken place since the battle the previous June, but Harry knew that while most of the buildings had been replaced, some still lay in charred ruins, a testament to what had occurred there.

Harry turned his eyes towards the castle. He could see it in the distance overlooking the village, its silhouette rising blacker against the darkened sky, its thousands of windows twinkling with lights. A thrill of anticipation passed through him. In a few minutes he would see Ginny for the first time since Halloween. He quickened his pace.

"Where's the fire?" Ron called after him. "Ginny's still going to be at school when you get there. She won't be going anywhere."

Harry smiled to himself and didn't reply. Ron hurried his own steps to catch up to Harry and didn't voice another complaint.

The entrance hall was brightly lit and filled with students robed in brilliant colours. Harry looked around him for a flash of gold, but it was difficult to see through the crowd. Ron, with his height advantage, had already spotted Hermione and moved off to greet her. Harry could see Hermione hugging Ron across the entrance hall while many of the older students turned to stare at them. Harry knew it probably wouldn't be long before they spotted him, and he wondered what their reaction to him would be.

He soon found out. "Harry!" he heard an excited voice cry out behind him. He turned and found himself standing face to face with Colin Creevey. For one wild moment, he expected Colin to ask for his autograph or try to take his picture -- the younger boy had his camera around his neck -- but Colin merely extended a hand. "How are you, Harry?"

Harry didn't know what to make of Colin's action for a moment, but finally realised he ought to at least shake Colin's hand. "Just great, Colin," he replied mechanically. "How are things going this year?"  


"Quite a bit quieter actually… Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"Listen, have you seen Ginny? I was supposed to meet her…"

"Haven't seen her. But you know girls."

"Yeah, well if you'll excuse me, I'll see if I can find her."

He said a brief hello to Ralph Chapman and Kevin Graham, who had been on the Quidditch team with him and Ron, before finally spotting Ginny. She was carefully descending the marble staircase, one hand on the banister, and the other holding her skirt so she wouldn't trip over it. She looked as stunning as he remembered in her dress robes, perhaps even more so now with her hair in an intricate pile on top of her head and a few tendrils left loose and curling about her face.

Harry's heart swelled as he watched her. She hadn't seen him yet; she was too busy concentrating on her feet. He had to force himself to remain calm and not shout out to her, not run over to her. He made his way towards the foot of the stairs, his heart racing and his mouth completely dry. His palms were unaccountably sweaty, and he found himself wiping them surreptitiously on his robes, staring at her all the while, and mentally willing her to look up.

She didn't until she'd reached the bottom of the stairs and found herself face to face with him. He only had a chance at the briefest of glances at her before he'd caught her in a tight embrace. His hands touched bare skin, sending a tingle through him; he'd forgotten that this dress had no back to it. Ginny's arms had encircled his waist and she'd laid her head against his shoulder. Somewhere behind him, he heard a catcall, and he released her reluctantly.

Ginny took his hand. "Come on." 

And then she was leading him off into a more secluded corner underneath the staircase itself. "I've missed you," she whispered, putting her hands on his cheeks, and pulling him down to her so that all he could see were her eyes. They were full of promise. "I've missed you so much," she said against his lips.

Harry took her by the waist and pulled her against him, kissing her thoroughly. At the moment actions seemed to suffice for the words he was unable to find. After a few minutes he pulled back, but found himself unwilling to let her go so soon. It had been so long since they'd been able to have any sort of time together. They had the rest of the night, and he knew it -- he was trembling with anticipation of what was to come -- but right now all he wanted was _her_. He drew her into another long kiss, and when they broke apart, Ginny's breath was coming in shallow gasps.

He stared down at her again, memorising her face, tracing her cheekbone and jaw line with a finger. She'd put on makeup for tonight. He'd never known her to wear it in the past, but it had been applied with a light hand, enhancing her features. But then he noticed something else. There were faint traces of circles under her eyes. She'd tried to conceal them, but standing this close he could still see them. It also looked to him as if she had lost weight now that he thought about it. He was sure this dress had fit more tightly last August.

He didn't have a chance to comment on this, however, for Ginny was leaning in again, her arms tightening about his waist, and making him wish the ball was over already. An evil cackle forced them apart several minutes later. Harry looked up in horror to find Peeves leering at the two of them. Before either one of them could say a word, Peeves began to recite:

__

There once was a wizard called Potter

Whose girlfriend was decidedly hotter.

They decided to snog

In the castle at Hog.

I wonder who else has got her?

"Go away, Peeves," Ginny seethed.

Harry's cheeks had gone red at being caught. "Let's just go into dinner," he advised, taking her hand and starting to lead her out towards the Great Hall. He blushed even further when he realised everyone else had already gone in for the meal.

Peeves thumbed his nose at them both. "Yes, that's it. Just run away. Better fix your make-up first, though, dearie. It's got Potter marks all over it! And put some clothes on!"

Ginny continued towards the Great Hall. "Maybe you'd better listen to him, Ginny," Harry ventured.

"What do you mean? You're the one who sent me this dress."

"Not the dress. Your lipstick." He reached up and rubbed his thumb across the corner of her mouth. He thought she shuddered at the touch. "It's smudged."

By the time they got into the Great Hall, everyone was seated and had food on their plates. It was a good thing the lights had been dimmed so that the hall was lit by the starlight from the enchanted ceiling and the candles that adorned the smaller tables that had replaced the usual house tables, for Harry felt his face heat even more when everyone turned to stare at the latecomers. 

They found Ron and Hermione at a table with several other Gryffindors, who made room for Harry and Ginny at the table. "Took you long enough," said Ron with a smirk. "Did you take the scenic route? Ooh…" He stopped and glared at Hermione who had just elbowed him. His smile faded even further, and his eyes bugged out a bit, as he looked his sister up and down. He looked decidedly disgruntled now, but it seemed he didn't dare make another comment at the moment with Hermione's elbow poised at the ready.

Harry picked the menu up off his golden plate and furrowed his brow as he looked over the choices. They all looked to him as if they were in French. Chicken cordon bleu, that looked safe, as well as vaguely pronounceable. 

Beside him he heard Ginny stumbling over one of the other choices. Some sort of fish and seafood platter over vegetables appeared on her plate. Harry leaned towards her. "Is that what you ordered?"

"I think so," she replied.

"I didn't get what I ordered," Ron grumbled.

"Of course you did," said Hermione. "Bouillabaisse."

"I wasn't ordering, I was sneezing," Ron insisted. "So, Colin, where's your date?"

"_Ron…_" Hermione hissed under her breath.

Colin was sitting at the same table with them, obviously by himself. "It's okay. Parvati couldn't make it."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Parvati Patil?" Harry couldn't help smiling as he remembered how Colin had wanted to borrow his Dr Zog book for advice last year, but Harry hadn't been able to find it at the time. It looked as if Colin had worked things out on his own.

Colin nodded. "We started owling each other over the summer. She had to work today, so she couldn't attend. I volunteered to come and take pictures for anyone who wants them," he added patting his camera. "Sort of as souvenirs. Anyway, it's better this way. I can dance with all the other girls." That shut Ron up for a few minutes.

Ginny, meanwhile, was devouring her meal, as if she hadn't eaten in days. "Hungry there, Gin?" Ron commented. When she didn't bother to reply, he added, "Isn't surprising. You look like you've lost weight."

"Since when do you pay attention to things like that?" asked Ginny.

"Well I might not have noticed except for those robes you're barely wearing. Where the hell did you get those?"

"Shut it, Ron."

"Ron," Hermione tried to intercede, "her robes are very nice."

"_Nice?_ They're downright indecent! Wait till Mum sees them! She'll have kittens. Harry, you're not saying a word. What do you think of them?"

Harry wasn't about to tell Ron the truth. "Er…" he began, but Ginny cut him off. "He likes them, Ron. He bought them for me."

Ron turned on Harry, who slumped down in his seat just a bit further. "_You_ bought them for her? What were you thinking?"

"Ron," said Hermione between clenched teeth, "why don't you come with me and say hello to Professor McGonagall?"

"I'm not done with Harry yet. And I'm not done eating!"

"You're never done eating. Come on."

She didn't give him any choice in the matter, for she grasped him by the upper arm in what looked to Harry like a vice grip and marched him off towards the table where the heads of houses and Headmistress were all seated. Hermione managed to keep Ron occupied at that table for the rest of the meal, leaving Harry and Ginny to enjoy their chocolate mousse in peace while they chatted with the other Gryffindors at their table.

As they were finishing their dessert, Professor McGonagall stood up, bidding everyone else do so as well, reminding Harry of the Yule Ball in his fourth year when the Weird Sisters had provided the music for the evening. He wondered who Professor McGonagall had managed to book, as she waved her wand pushing the tables back and creating a dance floor. Harry turned towards the door of the Great Hall, expecting to see the band members come in, but no one appeared there. 

Instead, the temperature in the room suddenly dropped, and turning, Harry saw that a large number of ghosts had materialised on the dais where the staff table normally stood. They all seemed to have ghostly instruments, and Harry shivered, remembering the horrible sound of the musical saws at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party. Upon closer inspection, however, Harry saw a large number of brass instruments: trumpets, trombones, saxophones. Someone had a clarinet, while a piano and a drum set had also appeared out of nowhere. There also seemed to be several other ghosts who had no instruments with them, and Harry supposed they were the singers.

He exchanged a look with Ginny, who shrugged. Evidently she hadn't been expecting this either. When the ghosts had set themselves up, Professor McGonagall announced them as The Legends, rattling off several names that Harry thought were vaguely familiar. He knew he'd heard the names Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller before, but he wasn't quite sure where. Frank Sinatra definitely rang a bell, but it conjured up images of his Aunt Petunia in her frilly dresses. He shuddered.

Just then Ginny touched his arm, driving the image from his mind. The band was tuning up, and from the sound of things, this wasn't going to sound like either the Weird Sisters or musical saws. The other students seemed to be looking at each other, perplexed at the choice of music, as if they had no idea how they were going to manage to dance to it. Harry didn't much care. He didn't consider himself any more of a dancer now than he had in his fourth year, and as long as he could enjoy a few slow numbers with Ginny, he'd be happy to sit the rest out.

The orchestra began its first tune, and Ginny grabbed at his hand, ready to lead him out onto the dance floor. But at the same time, Professor McGonagall appeared, striding towards them purposefully.

"Miss Weasley…" She had to raise her voice to be heard over the music. "Don't you think you ought to cover up?" Harry wondered if Ron has called Ginny's robes to the headmistress' attention.

Ginny stood her ground. "I don't see anything wrong with what I've got on."

"I suggest you put on a wrap. You know you're lucky to be here in the first place."

Harry handed his cloak, which he'd left draped over the back of his chair, to Ginny. "If she puts that on, will it be all right?"

"Yes, that would be fine."

When Professor McGonagall had gone again, Harry turned back to Ginny, who was slipping his cloak over her shoulders and didn't look as if she wanted to meet his eye. "What did she mean, you're lucky to be here in the first place?"

"It's nothing, Harry. Come on. Let's dance."

"Not until you tell me what that was about."

"I got into trouble, all right? And I almost wasn't able to attend because of it."

"Wait a minute. Is this over the Zonko's thing? No, it can't be, can it, because you would have told me before now if there was any chance of you not being allowed to attend."

Ginny bit her lip and then said something too low for Harry to hear.

"What was that?"

"I got behind in my work," Ginny said more loudly. "Enough behind that Professor McGonagall called me into her office and told me off for it. She gave me until the end of term to make it all up, and if I didn't she wasn't going to let me come tonight. But I finished it all."

Harry looked sharply at her. She must have been very behind indeed for the headmistress to intervene so drastically. Then he remembered something Hermione had mentioned in a letter. "Just how did you manage to get that far behind, Ginny?"

"Don't you remember how much work you had to do last year? If you let one thing slip it tends to all pile up, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but since early October?"

Ginny's jaw dropped, and she seemed to go white. "How did you know?" 

"Hermione mentioned something about you neglecting your school work. It had to be when you were planning that prank on your brothers. And it's taken you this long to get caught up?"

"That took a lot of planning, but I _am_ caught up now. That's what's important."

"Is that why you've lost weight?" He didn't think she wanted to hear she looked tired as well.

"It's been a stressful few months."

"It must have been a lot of work."

Ginny smiled slyly. "I did have help, you know."

"Hermione?"

"No, she thought I deserved everything I got for letting things slide. Professor Dumbledore gave me a hand here and there."

"What? How is that possible?"

"There's a portrait of him up in his old office now. The others are all asleep, but he's still awake. McGonagall made me do my work up there where she could keep an eye on me, but she wasn't there the entire time I was. So whenever she left, he helped me out."

Harry hardly knew what to say. It seemed incredible to him that the old headmaster's spirit might still be within these walls. But it also seemed fitting.

Ginny was watching him for a reaction. "He told me he'll go to sleep eventually, like the others. But for now he's awake, and it's still like he's watching over the school while he is, isn't it?"

Harry took Ginny's hand and squeezed it. There was something comforting in her words. "Yeah… yeah it is. Dance with me?"

Ginny smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

She let him lead her out onto the floor among the other couples, sending a glare at some younger girls Harry didn't know. They'd been staring at him and giggling, he realised, a lot like many of the Hogwarts girls had done over Viktor Krum.

The band was playing a slow tune now, for which Harry was grateful. He didn't think he was up to trying to dance to anything fast, and he realised he wasn't alone. The dance floor was much less crowded than it had been during the Yule Ball in his fourth year. Many of the students were sitting at tables, and those that were dancing didn't look as if they knew what to make of the choice of music.

Harry pulled Ginny into his arms, and began to circle with her to the strains, which filled the Great Hall. He heard one of the ghostly band members begin to sing something about spending the night in a secret rendezvous, and Harry couldn't help but pull her closer at the thought. It wouldn't be long now… He could feel the soft skin of her back, where he'd slipped his hands beneath his cloak, and he imagined touching her the way he had last summer.

As song succeeded song, the world seemed to close in on them. Ginny had slipped completely into his arms now and laid her head against his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his neck. He had a vague notion of time passing, as the band leader introduced different song titles. "Moonlight Serenade" had played, followed by "Sentimental Journey", "Green Eyes", "I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now", and others.

At the end of one song, Ginny lifted her head from his shoulder, and he looked down into her eyes. He couldn't resist the temptation to give her a kiss, and he yielded to it. A camera flash reminded him that Colin was taking pictures. Harry pulled back and grinned down at Ginny. "Ask him for that one for me, will you?" he said, even as the camera flashed again.

"Enough!" Professor Snape was suddenly standing next to them. "None of that on the dance floor! Twenty points from Gryffindor! And if you don't stop dancing so close, I'll make it more! Potter, keep your hands where I can see them."

Ginny shot a glare at the potions master before stepping back out of Harry's arms and removing his cloak from her shoulders. "There, you'll be able to see them now," she said defiantly.

Snape scowled at her, but Ginny held her ground. Harry decided it was probably a good time for a break. 

"Come on," he said, taking her arm. "Let's get a Butterbeer." 

As they moved off the dance floor, Harry noticed a good many of the other boys seemed to find Ginny quite attractive, judging by their stares. He suddenly didn't feel like leaving her at a table while he went for the Butterbeer, but he really didn't have much choice in the matter now that he'd offered. He steered her towards the table where Ron and Hermione were sitting, causing Harry to wonder if they'd danced at all yet this evening. He couldn't remember having seen them on the dance floor, but he also hadn't been paying much attention to the couples around him.

"Where did they dig up this music?" Ron was saying, as Ginny took a seat at their table.

"Professor McGonagall chose the band," Hermione explained. "I suppose she must think this is the sort of thing teenagers like."

"Oh, come on, she can't be that dense. Even Dumbledore knew enough to book the Weird Sisters."

"Well, maybe this is the sort of thing she liked when she was younger," Hermione ventured.

"Does anyone else want any Butterbeer?" Harry asked. "I'm off to get some."

"No thanks," said Hermione. Ron shook his head no, as well.

"Two it is, then."

When he got back with the Butterbeer, Hermione and Ron seemed to be having a bit of a dispute. "Go on, dance with your sister," Hermione was saying.

"No!" Ron insisted, looking at Ginny, as if he was a bit scared of her. "That's Harry's job."

Hermione looked disgruntled, but she didn't pursue the matter any further. "You'll just have to cave in and dance with me, then I suppose," she said resignedly.

"But… but… I don't know how to dance to this stuff. Fred is good at this sort of dancing, not me," Ron protested. The band had just changed to an up-tempo tune that the leader had introduced as "Sing, Sing, Sing".

"You've barely danced all night. Come on, it'll be fun!"

Hermione grabbed his hand and practically dragged him to the dance floor, while Ron rolled his eyes at her and looked petulant. Harry and Ginny watched the other couple for a while, laughing when Ron finally forgot about how he must look and got into the spirit of the dance. He wasn't half as bad as he thought, apparently, and Hermione was fairly glowing at him.

Next to him, Ginny shivered, cold now that she no longer had Harry's cloak on. Harry put an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close to him, kissing the top of her head. "You sure you don't want to put my cloak back on?" he asked in her ear.

"No, this is nicer," Ginny replied. "Besides, what if Snape comes back? He wants to be able to see your hands at all times," she added with a giggle.

"Yeah, but McGonagall wants you covered up…"

Almost as he said the words, he spotted the headmistress heading in their direction. But she came to a stop as the music changed once again. There were some female ghosts among the singers who stepped forward and began to sing something about bluebirds and the white cliffs of Dover. As Harry watched, Professor McGonagall turned aside, and he was sure he'd seen her brush at the corner of her eye.

"Is she going to be okay with you leaving this evening?" Harry asked.

"McGonagall? Oh yes, it's all worked out. I'm not the only one leaving straight from the ball. There's a whole list of people going home by Portkey. It's apparently one of the reasons they planned for this to occur before Christmas day: so students could attend and still spend the holidays with their families. I told Professor McGonagall I'd arranged to go back to the Burrow with you."

"So everything's ready then."

"Oh yes. I'm definitely _ready_." She was looking straight into his eyes as she said the words, and the emphasis she placed on the last word told Harry she wasn't talking about travel arrangements.

He swallowed nervously, feeling strangely shy all of a sudden.

She moved closer to him, and a tingle passed through him when he felt a rush of warm breath in his ear. "It's all arranged," she whispered. "Hermione sent me to Madam Pomfrey for some potion…"

The hand Harry had placed on her bare shoulder flexed of its own accord, and he turned his head to look at her. Her eyes were very close to his. "Do you think anyone will say anything if we left early?"

"I don't think anyone will notice. It's got to be nearly over in any case."

"Let's go then."

They both got to their feet at the same time and left the Great Hall without anyone seeing them. The entrance hall was thankfully empty. It only took a moment for Ginny to Summon her cloak and the bag packed with everything she'd need over the holidays from Gryffindor Tower, and then the two of them were walking back towards Hogsmeade through softly falling snow.

A chill wind blew down from the surrounding hills, causing the white flakes to swirl about them. Harry took Ginny's hand as they walked and found it was cold. 

"Are you warm enough?" he asked.

"I'll be all right. We haven't got far to go."

He dropped her hand and put an arm about her shoulders, noticing that she trembled slightly, but he wasn't sure whether it was caused by the thought of what they were going to do or the weather. He could practically feel her bare skin through the thin fabric of her cloak, and his hand tightened reflexively, moulding itself to her shoulder. She moved closer to him, and suddenly he found his arms about her, drawing her into the warmth of his embrace and feeling her shudder and burrow closer to him.

He pulled away slightly after a moment, but only enough so that he could tip her chin up for a kiss. For a long while they stood in the middle of the path to the village, drinking each other in, until Ginny shivered against him once more. Now, however, there was a different quality to her trembling, and Harry didn't think it had been caused by the cold this time. As one, they broke apart, and continued along the path as quickly as they could.

Harry's fingers shook slightly as he tried to unlock the door to the room at the Three Broomsticks. He wasn't sure if the shakiness was due to anticipation or the small twinge of nervousness he felt in his stomach. The other times they'd come close to making love hadn't been planned, but this occasion had, down to ensuring that Ginny wouldn't become pregnant. 

While she'd told him she'd taken a potion, he remembered what Mr Weasley had said to him, and he wasn't about to take chances. He'd ventured out into Muggle London the previous week, where he'd found a chemist's and bought what he needed. The choice had been bewildering, and he hadn't dared ask for help, but he'd managed in the end. As a result, he wasn't so much worried about a pregnancy as he was about doing things properly. That definitely wasn't a subject he wanted to bring up in front of Mr Weasley.

Harry finally got the door open and picked up Ginny's bag. He hung back, letting her precede him into the room. Light flared as she lit candles with her wand, and then she laughed. "Harry, are you sure this is the right room?"

"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry…"

"But there are two single beds here. You'd think Mum made the reservation."

"She did, actually."

"And what's Ron's stuff doing here?" She'd spied his bag on the floor.

"He'll be back for it in the morning. He's staying up at the castle with Hermione tonight, but we told your mum he'd be staying here with me. Listen…"

"Well, this isn't going to do."

Before Harry could say anything else, Ginny had taken off her cloak and was pushing at one of the beds. It creaked ominously but didn't budge.

"Ginny, let me give you a hand there."  


With an extra effort, they got the two beds pushed together. Then Ginny pulled out her wand with a flourish and performed a tricky bit of Transfiguration, and what was once two beds transformed into one large one, complete with canopy and hangings. 

Ginny surveyed her work and nodded once. "There, much better. Now…" She turned back to Harry. "Now I only need to change, and…"

"Don't change."

"But I brought something special…"

"Don't change, please?" Harry took a step closer and put his hands on her waist. "You're perfect in that dress."

He couldn't help but look over her entire body, appreciating the way her dress moulded itself to her curves. His mouth went dry, and his hands flexed at her waist, while his heart began to beat faster. He brought his eyes back up to her face and noticed the shadows under her eyes once more. He'd intended to kiss her, but now he hesitated.

"We don't have to do anything, Ginny. If you're too tired…"

She put two fingers over his mouth to silence him, and he fought the urge to kiss them. "I'm not too tired."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I want to make love with you."

She ran her fingers across his lower lip and down to his neck and from there gently began to pull her towards her, kissing him softly, first his upper lip and then the lower. Harry tightened his grip on her waist, taking a step closer, at the same time opening his mouth and tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue. She granted him entry, and she drew him into ever-deepening kisses, while he held her closely against him.

He pulled away after several minutes, his heart pounding and his breathing shallow, and turned to lay his glasses on the night table. Then he moved to sit down on the mattress, holding Ginny in front of him by the waist. He looked up at her, taking in her flushed face and darkened eyes.

"I love you, Ginny, and I've missed you so much," he whispered, reaching up to play idly with one of the tendrils of hair she'd left loose. "I want this to be right."

"It is right, Harry."

"You have to tell me if there's something you don't like. Or if you want to stop."

"I told you before, I want to do this. I'm not going to ask you to stop."

Her stomach was at about the same level as his face, and he pulled her against him, placing his lips against her midriff, while he ran his hands over her bare back. A tremor seemed to pass through her. He could feel the fullness of her curves against his forehead, and he longed to bury his face there and nuzzle, but not yet. Something inside him wanted to move slowly. He raised his face and kissed the bare skin at the lowest point of her neckline instead.

The next thing Harry knew, Ginny had leaned down, pulling his face up to hers, and was kissing him with all the passion she possessed. Somehow she'd pushed him back onto the bed without disengaging her lips from his until she was lying fully on top of him. He ran his hands over her back again and down over her hips, pressing her as close to him as he could.

Time seemed to blur while they continued to explore each other until Harry found himself reaching up and finding the tiny buttons that held her bodice in place, but he was having trouble getting his fingers to work properly. At last one button came free. He began on the other one.

"_Finite incantatem_!"

An instant later the beds sprang apart, and Harry tumbled sharply to the floor. "What the…"

Ginny's voice cracked angrily across him. "_Ron!_ What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Coming back to the room. What does it look like?"

Harry raised his head and squinted but he couldn't get Ron's face to come into focus. From his tone, however, Harry concluded that he wasn't very pleased. "Do you think you could have knocked first?" he asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

"I did knock! Several times, in fact! Do you think I wanted to just walk in on you?"

Ginny was on her feet now, and Harry was very thankful he'd never managed to get that second button undone. "Get out, Ron! Now!"

"Nope, not going anywhere."

She strode across the room towards her brother, gesturing furiously towards the door. "You're sure as hell not staying here! Find yourself another room!"

"Can't. Bloody inn is booked solid."

"What happened? Hermione kick you out?"  


"No, Hermione did not kick me out. Filch did."

Harry, in spite of his annoyance at having been interrupted, had to fight very hard not to laugh. "How'd you manage that, Ron?" he asked. He'd got his robes back in order while Ginny and Ron had been sniping at each other, and now he heaved himself off the floor and reached over one of the beds for his glasses.

Ron mumbled several choice words under his breath before bursting out, "You'd think after seven years I'd know my way around the place."

"You got lost?" Harry asked, incredulous. There was a distinct edge to his voice.

"Yes," Ron mumbled. "And Filch caught me and asked me what I was doing skulking about. Then the git kicked me out on my arse!"

"You idiot!" Ginny shouted. "What made you think you could find the staff rooms yourself? I've seen where Hermione's rooms are, and there's just no way you could hope to find them on your own. Plus there are passwords! Why the _hell_ didn't you just let Hermione show you the way?"

"Because I thought I'd surprise her, all right?" Ron snapped.

"Yeah, some surprise! She'll be expecting you to turn up and you won't."

Ron's ears turned decidedly red at that. "She knows," he said quietly. "She found me when Filch was telling me off."

Harry did burst out laughing then, rather harshly, earning himself glares from both Ron and Ginny. "It isn't funny," Ron said.

"No, it isn't," Ginny agreed. "It's just plain stupid! I suppose you thought you'd show her what a clever Auror you are by finding your way yourself!" Ron turned even redder and looked away. "Well you can find yourself another place to sleep!" Ginny said, giving her brother a shove towards the door. 

"Where?"

She gave him another shove. "You can go down to Zonko's and see if the twins will take you in. I'm sure they'll love the explanation!"

"Come on, Ginny," Ron pleaded. She looked daggers at him. "You're going to let me stay here, or I'll tell Mum what I walked in on just now."

"Oh, now there's a mature idea! They teach you that tactic in Auror training?"

"I'll tell her," Ron persisted.

"Just perfect! You ruin your evening, so you think it's perfectly all right to ruin ours as well!" And then she used Mrs Mutt's favourite word to describe Gervaise St John. Harry wanted to laugh but at the same time he told himself he probably shouldn't teach her any more of Mrs Mutt's vocabulary.

"Language, Ginny!"

"Turning into Malfoy now, are you?"

Ron rounded on Harry now. "God, Harry, what, do you tell her everything?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Harry asked, astonished at the question. "She's my girlfriend. We share everything."

"Yeah, a room and everything."

"_This_ was your idea, Ron! You _knew_ very well what was going to happen. Even if you didn't want me to say it out loud in front of you, you knew. You didn't have to come back here. You knew very well what you'd be walking in on!"

Ron let out a long breath, and the fight seemed to drain out of him. "Listen, I'm sorry, all right? I just didn't know where to go. Do you think I wanted to spend the night here? Yeah, I knew what was going on here, it's just that… Well, some things take some getting used to. Just let me stay here, and I'll cover for you with Mum over Christmas. All right?"

Ginny looked hard at her brother for a moment, but she must have known she'd have to admit defeat. "Oh, all right," she snapped, "but you're sleeping on the floor! And if I were you I wouldn't sleep too soundly while I'm home over Christmas!" Then she strode over to her bag, grabbed it and retreated into the loo, slamming the door behind her.

Ron went to his own bag, and rifled through it, avoiding Harry's eye. "You know, Ron," Harry began at last, "I reckon you're not all right about me and Ginny being together after all."

Ron looked up in surprise. "Of course I am. I just said I still needed to get used to the idea. Why would you say that?"

"Because of what you just did," Harry shot back. He was hurt, but he didn't really want to tell Ron that, so he concentrated on feeling angry. "And really, you've been a prat about Ginny and me ever since we got together. If the situation had been reversed and I knew you and Hermione were in here, I would never have just burst in on you. And I can't believe you'd tell your mum!"

Ron looked abashed at that statement. "I… I… I wouldn't really tell her, you know. And what was I supposed to do? If I'd gone back home, Mum would have known something was up. I didn't have anywhere else to sleep. It's snowing out," he finished lamely as he spread his cloak out on the floor between the two beds.

"You could have worked something out. You could have slept in the bar. So you must have wanted to interrupt us. It's the only thing that makes sense!"

Ron's mouth was opening and closing but no sound was coming out, as if he'd forgotten how to work it properly. "But…"

He didn't get any further, because the door to the loo burst open at that point, and Ginny emerged wearing what looked to Harry like a very clingy green slip cut fairly low in the front. Her eyes were flashing dangerously, and she was looking straight at her brother, as if she was daring him to say something.

Ron's eyes bugged out of his head, and he seemed to have forgotten how to use his voice again. "What's the matter, Ron?" Ginny said airily. "You're not going to comment? You had enough to say about my dress earlier, after all. Or are you remembering what happened when Hermione wore this for you?" 

Harry felt his face heating up. The night dress -- if it could be called that -- that Ginny was wearing now had to be what she'd been referring to earlier when she'd mentioned having brought something special. He thought she looked almost as good in it as she had in her dress robes, and he felt a pang of regret at not letting her put it on sooner. The fabric looked silky, and he couldn't help but think about how it would slide under his hands.

"Hermione's is red!" Ron blurted, the back of his neck going scarlet. 

Ginny smiled knowingly and looked down at Ron's cloak on the floor. "You might want to move that."

"Why? I was going to sleep on it."

"You were planning on sleeping under the bed, then?" She was moving over to one of the single beds, leaning forward so she could push at it. Harry saw Ron look pointedly away and realised the low cut of Ginny's night dress was revealing more of her than her brother wanted to see. He made a deliberate effort not to look himself. There was no point in torturing himself with what he'd be missing, after all. He moved to help her push the beds together, while Ron stared, dumbfounded.

"You're not just going to… With me in the room… Are you?"

"Don't be stupid, Ron," Ginny snapped. "Are you going to get your cloak out of there, or will I have to do worse to you than I did to Fred and George?"

Ron grabbed up his cloak then, swearing under his breath. Ginny took out her wand and Transfigured the two beds into one large one again. "Why don't you get undressed and join me, Harry?" she purred deliberately, as she pulled the covers back and climbed in.

"You are _not_ getting in there with her, while she's wearing that… that…"

"That what, Ron?" Harry asked. "A night dress that Hermione apparently owns in a different colour?"

Ron glared at Harry before disappearing into the loo. Ginny immediately reached for her wand, which she'd laid on the night table. She pointed it at the door.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, as he undid the clasps on his dress robes.

"It would serve him right if I locked him in there, wouldn't it?"

"It's tempting, but aren't we going to need to go in there at some point?"

"You're right…" She paused and seemed to consider for a moment, and then she pointed her wand towards the floor beside their bed. "_Refrigesco!_" The wooden planks glowed an icy blue for a moment before returning to their natural colour.

Harry laughed to himself knowing Ron would probably spend a fairly rough night on the floor now, a fact that was confirmed when Harry emerged from his turn in the loo to find the room dark and Ron tossing about uncomfortably. There was a clicking noise that sounded suspiciously like teeth chattering.

Ginny was already asleep in the centre wide bed, curled up on one side, her hair spread out on the pillow. Harry looked down on her a moment, brushing several silken strands out of her face before climbing in beside her. She had to have been every bit as exhausted as she'd looked, and he had to ask himself if this was merely a result of her having to catch up in her studies. He leaned over, kissed the side of her neck and then wrapped an arm around her waist, feeling the slide of slippery fabric beneath his fingers as she turned into his embrace and draped a leg over his. It made him wonder how he was ever going to manage to get to sleep. 

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Thanks for everyone's continued support. For those of you who were asking about the date, well, it's almost Christmas. Also, yeah, I know this isn't moving as fast as I'd like it to. I didn't think it would take me so long to get the story to this point, but yes, there is a plot, and yes things are going to start happening. I am not going to be able to continue updating this as often as I have been up till now. I'm finding I'm a bit burned out. I definitely want to finish this by June, and I'm hoping there's only about ten chapters to go, so it will be possible for me to step back and still finish before book five.


	18. Chapter 18

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Eighteen

"Happy Christmas, Ginny!"

Harry felt oddly shy as he handed her a large package, hoping she'd like what he'd chosen for her. Her fingers brushed his as she took her present, and Harry couldn't help but remember back to the previous year when she'd spent as good bit of the holiday in the hospital wing. The bracelet he'd given her then sparkled on her wrist, catching the light of the fire on the grate, as she undid the wrapping.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny breathed as her hands touched rich cashmere and her eyes went round. "It's… It's…" 

She obviously couldn't find the words. Harry heard a gasp from Mrs Weasley as Ginny held up the deep green cloak trimmed with silvery grey fur.

"It's beautiful," commented Hermione, who had arrived the previous evening. She and Ron would be leaving after the meal here at the Burrow to eat another Christmas dinner with her family. "Try it on, Ginny. Let's see how it looks on you."

Ginny, still at a loss for words, stood up and mutely obeyed. "It's so warm," she managed at last, drawing the hood over her head. 

"I expect a cloak like that has been charmed for extra warmth," said Mrs Weasley, sounding a bit breathless. "But really…" 

She stopped, but Harry was sure she'd been about to say he shouldn't have gone to all that expense. She was sitting in one of the pair of leather recliners he'd got for the elder Weasleys. Mr Weasley wasn't saying a word during the proceedings -- he was too busy fiddling with the lever that caused the chair to recline.

"It's lovely, Harry," she began again. "How did you know what size to get?"

"Yeah, Harry," added Ron. "How did you know what size _cloak_ to get?"

"I needed a new cloak," Ginny said quickly, saving Harry from having to reply. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess, I suppose," Harry replied. And it had been. He'd bought her gift at the beginning of the month, and he'd been doubly glad of his choice when he'd noticed how thin her regular cloak was the night of the ball.

"Did you have to get Slytherin colours?" asked Ron.

"Really, Ron!" exclaimed Hermione. "They suit her colouring. They're not _really_ Slytherin colours; the green is much too cheerful."

"Thank you, Harry, it's perfect," said Ginny, pointedly ignoring her brother as she removed her cloak and sat down next to Harry on the floor once again. She put her arms around him and kissed him quickly on the mouth. As she pulled back, the look in her eyes clearly told him he'd be getting a more thorough thank-you later. Harry grinned back at her, reaching up to pull a few strands of stray tinsel out of her hair.

Ginny turned to reach beneath the enormous Christmas tree, which she and Harry had spent the afternoon following the ball decorating with sparkly glass balls, magical candles, and flitting fairies. She withdrew a solid-looking, square package. "This is from me."

Ron leaned forward to get a better look. "At least I'm not the only one who got books this year," he commented dryly.

"Ron, those books are going to be quite useful if you're planning on moving into your own flat," Hermione pointed out.

Ron didn't bother replying, but he didn't look very thrilled with his presents, either. Harry didn't much care. He was still rather put out with Ron for walking in on him and Ginny at the Three Broomsticks. In any case, he was busy unwrapping his gift, which proved to be a book, but not a cookbook. It looked a lot like the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year.

He opened it to the first page, which was filled with pictures of him, Ron and Hermione. They'd been taken at Hogwarts, and Harry suspected that Ginny had got them from Colin Creevey. He found himself wishing she'd put in a picture of herself, but turning the page, Harry saw that she had included some. 

But then his eye was drawn to a picture of the two of them together. They were in their dress robes, his arms were around her, and he was gazing adoringly at her. He couldn't see her expression in the picture, since her back was turned to the camera, but he remembered this moment, and he remembered the way her eyes had shone at him. As Harry watched, the images in the photograph leaned towards each other and began to kiss. Harry couldn't take his eyes off the picture. Did he really look at Ginny like that? He had no idea the love he felt for her could be so evident on his face.

"Ginny," he said, "how did you get this picture? It had to have been taken at the ball."

"I only got it yesterday. Colin owled it to me along to me with the others. He didn't have all that many though."

Harry turned several more pages and saw the rest of the album was empty. "That's all right. I still love it. Thanks." He smiled at her and kissed her cheek. Like Ginny, he could save a proper thank you for later.

"I reckoned you could save the rest of the pages for the future," Ginny told him, her eyes full of promise.

The sound of the kitchen door opening heralded someone's arrival, and it wasn't long before the Burrow was full of family and almost-family. Percy and Penelope came in, their arms laden with colourfully wrapped presents, followed not long afterwards by the twins' noisy entrance. George had brought Pauline along with him. Last of all came Bill, who had managed to Portkey all the way from Cairo for the day.

More presents were opened, including the usual round of Weasley jumpers. Harry didn't notice anything different about his at first; it was the same shade of emerald green that Mrs Weasley always said brought out the colour in his eyes. But then he saw that Ginny had one in the same colour. Ron's face had flashed a disgruntled look when he opened the package containing his jumper and saw it was maroon, but when Hermione received a matching sweater, he began to laugh. George's jumper turned out to be an impossibly bright lemon yellow, and Pauline didn't look too pleased that hers came in a shade to match. Penelope's was perhaps the most curious of them all. It was light blue, matching Percy's, but when she tried it on, it seemed to be rather too large for her.

"I think that's Mum's way of telling Penelope she's ready for grandchildren," Ginny whispered in Harry's ear. "She's built extra room into her jumper this year."

Hermione got a bit of a shock when she opened the package a red-eared Ron handed to her. It contained a bottle of perfume, which he'd had made up on special order at the Apothecary. Everyone had a good laugh when Pauline's gift to George exploded in his face as he opened it. George looked quite proud of his girlfriend as the smoke cleared, and he pulled out a very loud Hawaiian shirt.

The mouth-watering smell of roast turkey had begun to fill the house, and it wasn't long before Mrs Weasley left her comfy recliner and began to bustle about in the kitchen as she saw to the rest of the meal preparations. Pauline, Hermione and Penelope went to lend her a hand. Meanwhile, Bill had discovered Ron's presents from Hermione.

"_The_ _Joy of Suds_?" he asked, holding up one of the books, a quizzical look on his face. "Whose is this?"

"It's mine," Ron mumbled.

"That's quite an informative book," Percy put in. "I consult it often."

"Bet he'd rather get _The Joy of Sex_," Bill muttered, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Harry sneaked a look at Mr Weasley, who continued to occupy himself with his recliner, a smirk on his face now. It looked as if he was already planning how he would charm it so that it would work magically. 

When Harry turned his head back around, he noticed with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fred had picked up his photo album and had already opened it. Harry gritted his teeth as Fred turned the page. His eyes widened, leaving Harry with no doubts as to what picture had caught his attention.

At that moment, Mrs Weasley stuck her head in from the kitchen. "Arthur, could you come and give me a hand in the kitchen? We need more space in here if we're all going to fit round the table."

"Coming, dear," he replied, reluctantly leaving his recliner.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that Fred would be distracted enough to leave the photo album alone. He should have known better than to trust his luck.

"George," Fred said, his voice deceptively calm, "I think you ought to have a look at this."

Harry wished there was some way he could disappear on the spot. Fred handed the album over to his twin, who said, "Nice, er… That is a dress, isn't it, Gin? Although from this angle it looks like there's not much of a top to it. I can't believe Mum let you buy something like that."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ginny pull her wand out. George might have been about to make another comment, but he closed his mouth immediately. But the damage had been done. Both Bill and Percy had craned their necks and had got a good look at the picture. Percy looked particularly horrified. Ginny gave a sigh of exasperation, grabbed the photo album out of her brother's hands, and snapped it shut. 

"Mum didn't let her buy it," Ron informed George. "Harry got that for her. With what he got her for Christmas, I wouldn't be surprised if he got her some knickers next."

"It was a _cloak_, Ron," Harry reminded him. "I got her a cloak."

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but Ginny was faster. Turning her wand on him, she cried, "_Confiscare biancheria_!"

Ron went strangely pale, and he gave a strangled sound. The next thing Harry knew, Ginny was holding a pair of red silk boxer shorts in her hand. "Oh, this is tasteful," she said showing them to the room. There was printing across the front of the shorts that read, "Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Percy was overcome with a sudden coughing fit. "Where did you get those?" he choked.

Both Fred and George were overcome with glee. "Why," asked Fred, "does Penelope visit the same shops as Hermione does?"

Percy blushed, while his mouth worked soundlessly, confirming Fred's conclusion.

"You really have to watch these studious types," commented George. "They can be quite surprising."

The twins seemed to be finished with Percy after that, and they turned back to their sister. "Nice spell, Ginny," said Fred. "I'm quite impressed."

"I take it you've practised that one on Harry?" chimed in George.

Ginny turned her wand on them. "I wouldn't push it if I were you. I'm quite good at shrinking spells as well."

Harry didn't know whether it was Ginny's threat that shut the twins up or the sudden appearance of their mother in the living room. "What's going on in here?" Mrs Weasley scowled at her children. "It's Christmas! Haven't you got anything better to do than fight?" Fred and George made a good show at looking repentant. "That's better," Mrs Weasley went on. "Dinner is going to be ready in a few minutes. We're still waiting for Remus and Sirius…"

At her words there came the sounds of Christmas greetings coming from the kitchen, as Remus and Sirius had undoubtedly arrived just in time. The entire family was soon anticipating an enormous roast turkey with enough trimmings to rival any Hogwarts Christmas feast. Mr Weasley had managed to charm room to spare into the kitchen so that no one felt crowded at the table.

Harry had to wonder if there had ever been so many seated around this table during any Christmas past, and he had to conclude that there hadn't. Yet there was an unspoken sense of someone missing all the same. This was the first Christmas without Charlie, and it was almost as if Mrs Weasley had gone out of her way to fill the house to bursting in order to make up for it. Somehow it all only served to drive the point home that there should have been another among their number on this day.

As they were about to tuck into their meal, Remus Lupin raised his glass. "A toast. First of all, to Molly and Arthur for opening their home to us this Christmas." 

At this, Sirius raised his glass as well and added, "Not only this Christmas, but they opened it to me this autumn. Not to mention everything they've done for Harry."

Mrs Weasley began to blush, but she looked pleased.

"To everyone here," Remus continued. "And to those we've lost as well."

"To Charlie," added Bill. "Wherever you are now, we won't forget you."

Everyone else solemnly raised his glass and drained it in tribute. Then Sirius spoke up again. "We won't forget. Not the family, and not those who were there. As long as someone remembers, Charlie is still with us in a way."

The idea of people being forgotten had been weighing on Harry's mind since Halloween. While he knew the Weasleys would never forget their second son, he wondered about those whose names he didn't know, and about those who didn't know about Charlie. Their sacrifices needed to be acknowledged.

Harry had received all that money from the Ministry on Halloween -- money he'd neither wanted nor needed -- and he'd been thinking about what he could do with it. He had an idea now, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up, or even if he ought to. It was Christmas, after all. It wasn't supposed to be a time for such solemnity.

The rest of the family seemed to concur with this, and the conversation turned to other topics. Zonko's was almost ready to reopen for business, and Pauline had managed to put together an owl order service before the holidays, meaning things weren't a complete loss for them this year. Bill told how things were progressing for him in Egypt, while Percy and Mr Weasley talked of various goings-on at the Ministry.

Hermione told them all how someone had pulled a prank on Professor Snape the morning after the ball, by putting something in his pumpkin juice that turned his face green. Remus and Sirius demanded details, but Hermione was at a loss to provide them. Things got a bit tricky when one of the twins suggested Ginny might know something about it, and Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, hoping Ron wouldn't mention that Ginny hadn't spent the night in her dormitory and thus hadn't been present at breakfast. Ginny merely answered coolly that she didn't know anything about it.

Luckily at that moment, one of Percy's sausages exploded, distracting everybody. 

"That remind you of anything Perce?" asked Fred, as George doubled over laughing. Mrs Weasley glared at the pair of them. Then she pushed her chair back, obviously intending to clear the table.

"Mrs Weasley," Penelope said, "why don't you let us see to the pudding? You go into the living room and relax."

"Nonsense, dear," Mrs Weasley replied. "It's no trouble."

Pauline got to her feet. "We insist. You and Mr Weasley go sit."

"Yes," added Hermione, "let us take care of it. Come on, Ginny."

Somehow the girls convinced Mrs Weasley to leave the kitchen, and they began clearing the table. "What are you all waiting for?" Pauline asked the boys, who hadn't moved. "You're only in the way. Clear off, and we'll call you when it's time to come back for pudding."

"Well, if you put it that way," said George winking at her, "your wish is our command. Beats getting put to work, doesn't it?"

Harry froze as he came into the living room. Mrs Weasley had evidently been looking over the various presents that had been left there and was picking up the photo album. Harry gave himself a mental kick for not putting it somewhere out of sight before they'd all gone in to dinner. After what had happened with the twins, he ought to have thought of it. 

It was too late now, though. If he said something, she'd be suspicious and be sure to open it, so he crossed his fingers and trusted to his luck. It was not to be. She did open the album, and as he watched she seemed to catch her breath in a gasp. Harry hung back expecting a verbal barrage to come his way, but Mrs Weasley had other things in mind.

"Ginny," she called, "could you come in here a moment, please?" She sounded completely reasonable, but Harry didn't let his guard down.

Ginny stuck her head in from the kitchen. "What is it, Mum?"

"It's about that ball you attended the other night. Where did you get dress robes for that? I know they were on your school list, but I didn't think you'd ended up buying any."

Harry saw Ginny's eyes drop to the photo album in Mrs Weasley's hand. "Harry bought them for me," she said evenly.

Mrs Weasley turned to him. "Really, Harry, a cloak and dress robes, as well? It's far too much."

Fred let out a whistle. "What did you do, Ginny?"

"It must have been something really good to get Harry to buy you all that," added George.

Mrs Weasley rounded on her sons, but once again her daughter was even faster. Ginny's wand was out and she performed the same spell she had earlier on Ron. Two sets of boxer shorts flew through the air into her waiting hand, while she glared at her brothers. She held up her prize mockingly. One pair of shorts was a violent lime green, while the other had a slogan on it: "Beaters have bigger clubs."

"MUM!" cried Fred, "are you going to let her get away with that?"

"Honestly, it's Christmas," added George.

"Of course I'm going to let her get away with that," replied Mrs Weasley. "You deserved it. In fact, you can do the washing up as well."

"We weren't the only one making comments," said Fred.

"Yeah, Ginny got Ron's shorts earlier," remarked George.

"Thanks loads," said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"The three of you can do the washing up," pronounced Mrs Weasley to her youngest sons, who looked mutinous. "Harry, could I have a word, please?"

Harry told himself he might have known all this was too good to be true. He followed Mrs Weasley into a corner away from the others. "I was serious about you spending too much money," she said. "It's not just those dress robes for Ginny or even the cloak. It's everything. Those armchairs you got for us are far too extravagant."

"I only wanted to pay you back. You've opened your home to me, and you won't take any rent…"

"Harry, you're family. You know that. I don't charge family rent."

"Yes, all right, but it's Christmas, and you deserve something nice. Both you and Mr Weasley. I thought you'd like a comfortable place to sit and do your knitting. And with Mr Weasley's leg… I thought it would be nice for him to be able to put his feet up."

"All right," Mrs Weasley relented. "I won't say any more about it. But this is the last time, do you understand me? Come on, dear, the girls ought to have the pudding ready by now."

Pauline had a good laugh at the twins when she discovered they'd been assigned clean-up duty after everyone had eaten his fill of plum pudding. "You two will never learn when to quit, will you?"

"I certainly hope not," George told her.

"Well, let's get on with it," grumbled Ron. "I've got another one of these to go to, and Hermione doesn't want to be late to her aunt's. And I have to go put on some underwear."

"That's a bit more information than I wanted," said George.

"What of it?" shot back Ron. "You're in the same boat as I am."

"You're getting to be as bad as Percy, mate," said Fred, shaking his head. "He's off to Penelope's parents' soon."

"Oh, just shut it," replied Ron, picking up a dish towel.

"You won't have to worry, Ron," commented Pauline, as she left the kitchen. "George and I aren't going over to see my family until tomorrow, so he can finish up whatever you haven't got time for."

"Why don't you and Ginny test out that new cloak of hers and go for a walk?" Mrs Weasley suggested to Harry, who was all too happy to get some time alone with her for the first time all day.

"Why doesn't he have to help with the washing up?" asked Ron.

"Because he didn't do anything to hack off our sister," Fred reminded him.

Harry put on his own cloak and took Ginny's hand as they stepped out into the frosty late afternoon and began to walk towards the orchard. Their breath came out in white plumes that hung in the air behind them. As soon as they were far enough from the house that they wouldn't be easily spotted, Harry pulled her close for a lingering kiss.

"Thank you for that photo album," he said when he pulled back several minutes later. "It's perfect. I'll be able to see you whenever I want. That picture from the ball is especially nice."

Ginny slid her hands from around his neck and laid them against his chest. "Isn't it though? Colin made two copies, so I can have one, too." She stood up on her toes and leaned in again. "I haven't seen nearly enough of you this holiday," she added before she kissed him again.

"We'll have all day tomorrow," Harry said when they'd separated once again.

"Yes, and then you'll have to go back to the Ministry."

"Can't be helped. I took time off to go to the ball with you."

She took his hand and they started walking again. "So how's the new cloak?" he asked after a few moments.

"Very warm. Really, I couldn't ask for better. Only… well, what made you think of it?"

"I spotted it in Madam Malkin's shop when I went in to pick up my dress robes a few weeks back. Madam Malkin's got to have some sort of sixth sense about these things, because she noticed me looking at it. And she remembered you, because she commented that it would go perfectly with your colouring."

"It's just what I needed. My old cloak was really getting worn."

"Yes, I noticed the other night. I was glad I'd got this for you then."

"You'll have to allow me to thank you properly, in that case." 

And she pulled him behind another tree and proceeded to do so. After several minutes, Harry had to stop. This wanting her and not being able to do anything about it was driving him mad. He broke the kiss, but he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. These moments alone were all too precious. 

She snuggled into his embrace, while he rested his chin on the top of her head and looked out across the landscape. They were nearing the far end of the orchard, and he could see a hedge through the last of the trees, one that must mark the end of the Weasleys' property. On the opposite side, the land fell away into rolling fields. 

As Harry stared across them, his thoughts began to drift towards their inevitable separation -- she'd broken the news to him that she wasn't going to be able to stay until the next term began just yesterday -- but they didn't stop there. They continued into the future. What was going to happen in June, he wondered. She'd be free then, but where would they be, exactly?

"Gin?"

"Yes, Harry?" she replied into his chest.

"I've been thinking…"

"What about?"

"Well, us and… Later."

"What are you talking about?"

Harry took a hand from around her waist and ran it through his hair, as he thought about what he wanted to say to her. An image of the picture from the ball flashed through his mind, and there was something calming about it. "Well, what do you see our future like?"

"I haven't really thought about it. All I can think about is finishing school."

He pulled back so he could look into her eyes. "Think about it now. For me. Where are we going to be in a year?"

"I… I don't know. You'll still be working at the Ministry of Magic, I suppose. And I'll be… I don't know what I'll be doing. Professor McGonagall wanted me to think about what I'd do once I left school, but I just don't know what that is."

He took a deep breath. "All right, but I need to know something. When you see yourself a year from now, doing whatever it is you decide to do with your life, am I there with you?"

"Yes, of course, you are. How could you even ask that?"

"And in five years? Ten?"

"Isn't it a bit soon for us to be talking about that?"

"No, no it isn't. Why would it be too soon? I realised I was in love with you over a year ago, and after all we've been through since then, there's no doubt in my mind that we belong together. All that's left for me to ask you is if you feel the same way. Do you believe we belong together?"

When she replied he saw no trace of reservation in her eyes. "Yes, Harry."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Maybe this was going to work out after all. "So then you'd be willing… eventually… when you're ready for it… to…"

"To what?"

"Marry me?"

Her jaw dropped.

"I haven't got a ring. I didn't exactly plan this… It just came out."

She was gaping at him, and tears were starting to form in her eyes. He wasn't too sure what to make of her reaction.

"Ginny, say something, please…"

"Harry, you're a complete idiot. YES! Yes, I'll marry you!"

She launched herself against him, smiling, and he didn't think he'd ever known such a profound sense of relief. At the same time, he couldn't fathom what he'd just asked of her, or that she'd accepted.

"We don't need to say anything now," he said, grinning into her hair. "This can be our secret. We can wait until you're out of school, or even longer before we decide anything. It's up to you. Whenever you're ready. I just needed to know if you wanted…"

"Yes, I wanted! Now stop being such a git about it, and kiss me."

By the time they walked back to warmth of the house, smiling with their secret, it was fully dark out.

*

"You're not going to spend our last evening together before I go back to school working, are you?" Ginny asked. She'd just found Harry sitting at the table in the corner of the living room with a file full of parchment spread out in front of him. She went over to him and put her hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly as he leaned his head back against her stomach.

"This isn't work, actually. Ron brought this from the office, but he only just now remembered to give it to me. If I'm going to look at it at all, it has to be now, because he'll need it back by tomorrow night when he goes back in to work."

"What is it?"

"Remember that Quidditch match Ron and I went to? I wrote to you about that, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Well, this is the Aurors' report from it."

"What do you want that for?"

"There was something odd about the Falmouth Seeker's broom. Ron thought it had been hexed -- that match wasn't what you'd call clean -- but I'm not so sure. It's mainly curiosity."

"Well, come be curious on the sofa with me. Mum's been much better about us lately."

Indeed, Mrs Weasley had barely batted an eyelash at them when she'd gone to bed the previous night, leaving the two of them alone in the living room. They'd made a late evening of it. Ginny still thought it was too good to last. Perhaps her mum had simply overdone it with the eggnog.

"Curious? About what? How much actual reading am I going to get done?"

"If you tell me what you're looking for, maybe you'll get through it faster."

Harry tilted his head back and smiled up at her. "Come on, then."

He picked up the file, and they moved over to the couch with them. "Here, this is what I wanted," Harry said, when they were seated. He leaned against Ginny and pointed out the relevant lines. "Here's the list of all the tests they did on the broom, and there wasn't anything wrong with it. None of the sorts of curses or hexes that they were looking for anyway."

"So what do you think happened then?"

"There's always the possibility that the broom was hexed, but it was something new; something they haven't got a test for."

"Don't they have something general they can look for?"

"They did that, it turned up nothing. Of course there might be ways of hiding it. But I don't think that's what happened. Something just tells me that the broom was charmed, yes, but simply charmed to go faster than it was meant to. And that's why it crashed."

Ginny nodded, watching Harry closely. There was a light in his eyes she hadn't seen very often these days. It made her feel hopeful. "Is there any way of telling what was done to it then?"

"I don't know… What I can't shake off is the idea that if someone had done something else to it. Made the tail a bit different, say, or I don't know, something, then the broom would be more stable. It was shaking. That's what made people think it was a curse. And there was this bloke there on the Wanderers' side. He was doing curses. Sent the referee off to Diagon Alley. People just thought it was him. Look, here it is… He used…"

But then Harry went very quiet and pale. "What?" Ginny asked, alarmed now that the light had gone again. "What did he use?"

"It's a Dark Arts spell," Harry replied dully.

"Yes, you said that, didn't you? A curse…" But Ginny has a nagging suspicion he wasn't talking about something that had happened at the Quidditch match. "Harry…" she coaxed when he didn't respond. She could practically see the shutters coming down. "Harry, what is it?"

He turned away, cursing under his breath. He buried his face in his hands, pushing his glasses up until they hung rather precariously from his ears. Ginny looked at the parchment, wondering what he could possibly have seen to cause this reaction. None of it made any sense to her. "Harry," she tried again, "don't do this. Please…"

She put her hand on his shoulders, turning him and forcing him to look at her. He lowered his hands, and his glasses fell lopsidedly back onto the bridge of his nose. "You made a promise to me last year that we'd talk if there was a problem. I want you to keep that promise now. You have to trust me."

He hesitated for a long moment, before swallowing hard. "The spell I used to defeat Voldemort was a Dark Arts spell," he spat.

Ginny knew she must have gone pale, but she also knew she couldn't let on that she'd already suspected this. "What makes you say that?"

"It's the spell Parkins used to send the referee off. Look at the incantation in the report." He jabbed his finger at the words "_exulo in _Diagon Alley", which were printed on the parchment. "That was part of the spell I used."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. It matters to me."

Ginny looked away for a moment, searching for her reply. Of its own accord, her eye fell on the Christmas tree with its twinkling fairy lights. "Voldemort was evil. You had to use whatever means you could to defeat him. Who did you hurt with that spell besides Voldemort and yourself? No one. And the harm you did to yourself, you did willingly. You've got to stop this, Harry. You can tell me these things, and it's not going to change my opinion of you as a person. You _are_ a good person, Harry, one of the best I know. I wouldn't love you if I didn't think you were a good person."

"I'm sorry, Ginny, but this isn't exactly easy. I gave up everything for this last summer, and now I find out it was Dark Arts on top of that. And all this time I thought I'd done right. It turns out Rita Skeeter was onto something with that article."

"You didn't _know_ at the time. You did what you thought you had to. Rita Skeeter couldn't have known, if you didn't. It was a lucky guess on her part."

"I can't help but feel I've done wrong, Ginny. There's this voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me I'm nothing but a worthless freak after all. That I'm… unnatural."

She pulled him against her and pushed his head onto her shoulder, stroking his hair while the lights on the tree blurred before her eyes. "Harry, I don't think any less of you for this. I promise I don't. You're going to have to trust me on that one. You have to stop doing this to yourself. If you want things to work out between us, you can't shut me out. That voice in your head… That's those, those… Well they aren't even human, are they? That's _them_ talking. Listen to me, Harry. I am not going to leave you. I couldn't. You're a part of me, and you have been for a long time now."

He was still against her for a while, unable to reply, but she felt him clutch at her, as if she was a lifeline. Ginny continued to sit there and hold him in silence, stroking his back soothingly, while her tears fell in silence. She hurt for him, both for the past and for the future. 

After a while it seemed as if he relaxed in her arms, and she was sure he'd fallen asleep. She leaned forward and kissed the top of his head, before removing his glasses for him and settling back more comfortably so that they were half lying on the sofa and wishing they could just stay like this.

She continued to sit, holding him, not knowing how much time had passed and not really caring, until she felt him start to move fitfully against her. As time wore on, he became more and more agitated, his movements more jerky. He had to be dreaming, she thought.

"You don't realise, do you, just how much I love you?" she said, not quite knowing why. She knew he couldn't really hear her. But at the sound of her voice, he seemed to calm. "You can't understand how anyone could love you. But I do, and some day you'll understand. I'd do whatever I could to take all this pain away from you. I wish I knew an easy way. You're a good person, and you need to learn that. Someday I hope you do."

Harry sighed and settled in more peacefully. At some point Ginny knew she would have to wake him up so they could go up to bed… It just wouldn't be quite yet. She didn't know when she'd have another opportunity to hold him like this.

*

Harry was sitting at the kitchen table spooning cereal into his mouth when Ginny entered the room, smiling and happy. What was she doing here, he wondered vaguely. Wasn't she supposed to be at school? But then he remembered; it was the Christmas holiday.

"Morning, Harry," she greeted brightly. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

Harry glanced up at the window, where an impossibly yellow sun blinded him. Ginny didn't bother waiting for a reply. She simply took a seat opposite him and waved her wand. 

"_Accio_ teapot!" she cried, catching the object deftly in both hands as if it was a Quaffle when it came flying across the kitchen towards her. Harry was reminded that she'd tried out for the Gryffindor House Quidditch team the previous year. He knew she hadn't tried out for the team this year, but she could have if she'd wanted. He slumped a little in his seat.

Ginny picked up the morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_, and Harry heard her cluck to herself in a pitying manner as she read the headline. Harry had already seen it. "Department of Mysteries Proves Muggles Inferior," it proclaimed.

Ginny blithely waved her wand again, summoning some toast this time, and magically buttering it once it had arrived on the plate in front of her. Harry avoided her eye.

"Want some?" she asked suddenly, and he looked up to see her holding out a slice of toast. For some reason, the sight of the butter melting into the nooks of the warm, crisp bread turned his stomach.

"No thanks," he mumbled. He reached for his mug, thinking a sip of tea might help settle the churning within, but he realised it was empty. Before he could get his hand on the teapot, Ginny had waved her wand again, magicking tea into his mug.

Harry was on his feet in an instant, anger erupting from every pore. "Will you just stop showing off?" he shouted.

In the next moment, he'd reached across the table, grabbing her by the lapels of her white dressing gown and hauling her to her feet, knocking crockery aside in the process. The sound of smashing ceramic echoed through the room. Ginny was staring at him haughtily; she thought she was better than he was, and they both knew it. He backhanded her, causing her head to snap to the side, but her expression, when she turned to look at him once more, didn't change.

"That the best you can do? It must be. Muggles are inferior to wizards, after all."

The condescension written on her features made him even more enraged. He couldn't bear to look at her another moment. His right hand balled reflexively into a fist and smashed into her face with a sickening crunch, knocking her backwards over her chair, which broke under the force of the blow.

Harry turned the table over onto her, sending its remaining contents flying. His cereal bowl clattered to the floor, teetering in a mockery of a dance until it righted itself and came to a halt. 

Then everything was silent. Eerily so.

Harry felt an odd sense of satisfaction as he took a step forward to look upon his handiwork. Ginny's eyes were wide open and staring blankly at the ceiling as a trickle of blood oozed from one corner of her mouth. She wasn't moving, and more blood was seeping from behind her head, pooling on Mrs Weasley's pristine floor. Harry smiled.

"Maybe we're the same now, you and I, aren't we?" he said to no one in particular. 

Ginny didn't respond, but there was something mocking in her glassy stare. 

"Neither one of us is magical now." 

Ginny continued to stare at the ceiling.

Harry opened his eyes and stared, panting, at the ceiling overhead, still orange to his eyes in spite of the semi-darkness, while his heart continued to pound. 

It had only been a nightmare he told himself. Just a horrible nightmare. But he'd had it before. As he shook off the remnants of sleep, he realised that this was the dream that had been troubling him for almost two months now. Or the beginnings of it had. He'd didn't think it had ever gone that far in the past.

Had he cried out in his sleep? Was that what had woken him up this time, or had it simply been the horror of what his dream self had done? He listened but heard no sound of footsteps on the stairs, and this helped to calm him further. At least Ron had worked last night and hadn't been subjected to Harry's troubled sleep this time.

Harry reached over to the night table with a clammy hand and looked at his watch, squinting at it, as he struggled to hold it steady enough to read the hour. It was almost time for him to get up and get ready for work. Another thought struck him as he heaved himself out of bed. Ginny was leaving today. As he recalled his dream, he couldn't help but think that might not be such a bad thing after all. It would give him time to get over this, whatever it was.

He shook his head. How could he be thinking that? How could he take that dream seriously? He'd never, ever do anything like that to Ginny, and she'd never look at him the way she had in her dream. He could never be that angry with her. Could he? But something in the back of his mind insisted on reminding him of the previous summer. He _had _been very angry then, but not to that extent. He hadn't been very nice to Ginny, certainly, but he hadn't been nice to anyone. And he was past all that. Wasn't he?

He shook himself and grabbed his dressing gown. Dwelling on it wasn't going to get him anywhere, and he needed a shower desperately. He was drenched in sweat.

*

Ginny contemplated the golden dress robes she'd worn to the ball for a long moment before putting them away in her wardrobe. She wasn't going to need them anymore, and there was no point taking them along with her. She turned back to her bag and rifled through it one last time, making sure she had everything she'd need. She'd packed as many of her mother's hand-knit jumpers as she could find.

"Are you almost ready to go?"

Harry's voice at her back startled her, causing her to drop the hairbrush she'd been about to add to her bag. Ginny turned towards him swiftly, keeping herself placed between her bag and the doorway, where Harry was standing, eyeing her curiously. "Yes, I'll be along in a moment."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Well… I don't really want to go…"

"Then don't. Spend the rest of the holiday here."

"I can't, Harry. We've been through this. I may have got caught up on all the work I missed this autumn, but you know everyone's going to be watching me like a hawk from now on. It's going to be easier for me to work ahead if I can do it with no distractions." 

She stared pleadingly at him, silently begging him to understand. If he put up an argument about her leaving now, she didn't know how long she'd be able to hold him off and not blurt out the truth.

"I know… I just hate this. It's over already," Harry replied, looking as if he might want to cross over the threshold. She took several steps towards him instead, so that if anyone should happen along, they'd both be in full view, and it would be apparent they weren't doing anything her mother would disapprove of. 

"We managed this autumn. We can manage again. Then it'll be Easter. And then it won't be much longer at all until June."

Harry looked as if he wanted to argue some more, and so Ginny was grateful when he opened his mouth and merely asked, "Are you ready to go then?"

"Just give me another minute, and I'll be along." She moved until she was close enough to kiss his cheek. "Meet you downstairs?"

"All right."

Harry moved off down the corridor, and Ginny let out her breath before going back to her packing. It was only two days after Christmas, but she'd told her family that she was going back to school today to get ahead on her work for the coming term. Harry had agreed to take her as far as Hogsmeade using his Portkey before he went into the Ministry. 

One final check of her bag, and she was as ready as she ever would be. She slung it over her shoulder and grabbed the cloak Harry had given her for Christmas out of her wardrobe. She was thankful it was so warm; she was going to need it up north.

After a quick goodbye to the rest of her family, it wasn't long before she found herself walking along the snowy path towards Hogwarts with Harry at her side.

"Are you sure you're not going to be late to work?" she asked. "You don't need to come the entire way up to the castle, you know."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Harry asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Certainly. Didn't you know I wanted to come back to school early so I can continue my sordid little affair with Colin Creevey? But don't worry, you'll always have Mrs Mutt…"

"Stop, Ginny, it isn't funny."

"I know, but sometimes it's just easier to laugh."

They walked in silence until they'd reached the wrought iron gates, and there beside the stone columns, Harry pulled her into his arms. She could feel him trembling with suppressed emotion, and it brought a lump to her throat.

"It gets harder each time," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't want you to go."

"It's only six more months. It's less than it was."

"It's still too long."

Ginny drew back far enough so that she could look at him, and for a long moment she didn't say anything. She just stood there, memorising his features. "I love you, Harry," she said at last. "And the day is going to come when we can be together and no one will have anything to say about it. I promise. Unless you've changed your mind."

Harry tightened his grip on her. "Come here, and I'll show you if I've changed my mind."

She looked around, making certain they were out of sight of the castle before pulling him towards her for one last kiss. She allowed all her feelings for him to pour into their embrace and felt him return it with equal passion. They pulled apart some time later, each blinking back tears.

"I have to go," Harry said. "I'm going to be late as it is. I'll send you an owl."

Ginny could only nod as she watched him step back. He gave her hand one final squeeze, before letting it go so he could activate his Portkey. She waited until he'd disappeared, and then she looked around her once more. A harsh wind was blowing from a leaden sky, and she shivered in spite of her heavy cloak.

Certain that no one was watching now, she took her bag from her shoulder, opened it, and dug through it until she found what she was looking for. She took out a pair of warm gloves and put them on before pulling out a tiny broom, which hovered in the air in front of her when she let it go. Tapping it with her wand, she muttered, "_Engorgio._"

The tiny broom immediately returned to its normal size. She slung her bag back over her shoulder, slipping her head through the strap to make sure it stayed in place. She didn't need any distractions for what she was about to undertake. Placing her wand in her hand, she then muttered, "Point me," and the wand spun in her palm indicating north. With a clear sense of direction now in mind, she mounted the Firebolt, pointed it towards the north east, and kicked off from the frosty ground. 

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: I borrowed a line from Firebolt909_ in this chapter. I hope she won't mind, since I'll be giving it back now. (It's the "Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" line.) I also forgot to mention, I've got a new beta as of last chapter. Thanks to Jo for looking this over and catching my wonky phrasing. That's what happens when you rewrite. Thanks to everyone else who's looked over my chapters before I post them, as well, and thanks to all of you who have reviewed. It's taken me about twice as many chapters as I expected to get to this point in the story, but I'm here at last._


	19. Chapter 19

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Nineteen

Ginny no longer had any clear idea how long she'd been flying. Squinting into the distance, she looked desperately for something, anything on the horizon that might be land, but all she saw was haze. For a long time the world had been composed of nothing but low, scudding clouds in the sky above and the dark waters of North Sea below, its sullen expanse scarred with jagged ridges like thousands of old knife-strokes. These were the only constants now, along with the bone-piercing wind.

The first stage of the journey had been easy enough. Following Dumbledore's instructions, she'd flown from Hogwarts castle to the Scottish coast, following its line until she came to a place where the land began to turn, its angle changing to form a rounded corner. 

She'd landed on a deserted, windblown beach between two towns, where she'd rested and prepared herself for the next and worst leg. She'd cast a warming charm over an extra jumper before pulling it over her head and putting her cloak back on over it, and then she'd gathered her courage, for she was facing over three hundred miles of open sea with nothing to guide her but a brass compass. Dumbledore had thought of using one, and she'd remembered there was one she could clip onto the broom handle in the Broomstick Servicing Kit Harry had given her over the Christmas holiday. He'd sounded a bit sad, as he'd explained Hermione had given it to him for his thirteenth birthday, but that he no longer needed it. As long as she kept a straight course bearing north-east, she'd strike the Norwegian coast not far from her intended destination.

The thought of how easily she could be blown off course was a daunting one, added to the certain knowledge of the cold she'd suffer and the time the crossing might take. At top speed, she ought to be able to make the journey in less than two hours, but once she'd kicked off into the air once more and felt how easily the wind buffeted her about, she knew she'd be unable to control the Firebolt if she asked it to go too fast. She couldn't risk falling off into the frigid water. That would mean certain death.

Only the thought of Harry had kept her going forward at the beginning, and now, even if she wanted to abandon this idea and turn around, it would be pointless to do so. She had to be more than halfway across. If she didn't manage to become hopelessly lost by giving up and going back, she'd only be prolonging her exposure to the cold. 

Glancing at the compass to make sure she was still on course, Ginny let her mind wander back to Hogwarts, where this whole plan had been hatched. With all the time she'd spent in Professor McGonagall's office making up her schoolwork, she'd found herself talking to the portrait of Professor Dumbledore on occasion. He'd given her some useful advice in getting her assignments finished more quickly, and one day he'd asked her how she'd managed to find herself in this predicament. 

It had been quite easy to tell him everything. When she'd described how Harry had come to lose his powers, Professor Dumbledore hadn't even blinked in surprise. It was as if he'd known exactly what Harry's intentions had been the previous June. And then Ginny had told him of the fruitless search for a cure at Hogwarts, down to the missing page in the book. And so Dumbledore had encouraged Ginny to approach the search from a different angle, without telling Hermione or anyone else. The only thing left for her to do now was to reach her destination so she could begin.

She checked her compass again. Still on course. Staring ahead of her into the haze, Ginny's heart gave a leap. There was something darker out there in the distance. Land. It had to be. She wanted to shout out in her relief that, at the very least, she'd be able to get off this broom and take a break. She leaned forward and urged the Firebolt onwards.

Several minutes later she found herself dismounting onto shaky legs on a stretch of desolate rock off shore. Peeling her numbed fingers from the handle of her broomstick, she drew out her wand and conjured herself some bluebell flames to warm herself. The final stage of the journey was going to be tricky. 

She had no idea how Norwegian Muggles might react to the sight of someone flying on a broomstick. Briefly she wondered if she should have brought along Harry's invisibility cloak after all, but she knew in her heart she'd done the right thing in leaving it behind. She would have been taking it without permission, without Harry even knowing she had it, and if anything should happen to it… The Firebolt wasn't quite the same thing. He'd _given_ that to her, but the invisibility cloak had belonged to his father, and as such, was irreplaceable. 

She was just going to have to be careful that no one spotted her, and from the looks of things that might not be such a tall order. From the sky, the mainland had appeared to be sparsely populated, with a few tiny villages on some of the larger islands. Keeping an eye out for aeroplanes would be another concern, as Professor Dumbledore had told her she'd be flying in the close vicinity of an airport as she neared Bergen. On the other hand, if she spotted any, she'd know she wasn't far from her goal.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that it had to be afternoon. She'd not managed much breakfast this morning, and now she'd missed lunch as well. Bringing food along with her hadn't really been an option, as it would have aroused tricky questions at home. She'd just have to keep going. Once she found the town, once she found the pub… Then she could relax.

And she'd better be off, she thought. She wasn't sure how much more daylight would be left to her, and it would be much easier to find what she was looking for before sunset. She put out her fire, mounted the Firebolt and kicked off from the rocky ground.

To her immense relief, Ginny discovered that she had, indeed managed to remain on course. Once she was up in the air again and had flown over the mainland, she could see that she was approaching a more populated area. She looked nervously around for aeroplanes but thankfully saw none, although she soon spotted the landing strip below and to her left. Ahead she could see the town itself, and she concentrated on the description Dumbledore had given her. There were seven mountains surrounding the city, and she had to make sure she landed on the right one.

The straightest route to Mount Floien would take her directly over the city, and she already felt conspicuous flying out in broad daylight. Now that she knew she was about where she wanted to be, she could take a bit of a detour, skirting the areas where the buildings were more densely packed. 

At last she came to land near the top of the mountain, which overlooked the centre of town and was undoubtedly teeming with tourists enjoying the spectacular view of the surroundings during the summer months. Pausing for the time it took to shrink the Firebolt and hide it in her bag, she pulled out a map she'd copied out of _Magical Locations the World Over: A Wizarding Tourist Guide_ and stuffed it in her pocket. She was going to need it to locate the pub in a few minutes. But her first concern was in getting down from the mountain without being seen.

But as Ginny approached the kiosk and souvenir shop at the very top, she saw that the place was completely deserted on this raw, wintry day. The funicular might be running, but she didn't have any Norwegian Muggle money to pay for passage. In any case, she wouldn't need to rely on Muggle transportation to take her to the centre of town. 

She walked to the back of the building that housed the restaurant and looked quickly around. There was no one to see what she was doing. Drawing her wand, she looked for a crack in the shape of a troll's head, which had been carefully described in the tourist guide. When she found it, she tapped the end of the nose with her wand, and the wall before her gave way. Stepping through the magical portal, she found herself in the funicular's lower station at the base of the mountain.

Before passing out into the street, she consulted her map once more. She knew she had a bit of a walk before her, and her heart sank when she realised the pub was almost a mile away from where she was. Her stomach protested, reminding her once again that it was long past lunch time, and her legs suddenly felt rubbery, but she could do nothing about it until she was in a place where she could pay for things in Galleons.

Stepping out onto the pavement, she was immediately faced with crossing a street, and out of habit she looked to the right first. Seeing nothing, she was about to put her foot over the kerb, even as she turned her head to the left. Her heart leapt into her throat and she jumped back, when she saw several cars go screaming past. It was apparent that Muggles here drove on the opposite side of the road from what she was used to, and she wondered if she'd manage to reach the pub without being knocked flat.

Looking carefully in both directions, Ginny tentatively stepped into the street again, and then she practically ran across, panting a bit as she reached the other side. She then set off, her heart-rate slowly coming back to normal once again. It looked as if it was growing dark already, and she quickened her pace. She'd had a glance at a clock in the funicular station, and it had only been about three in the afternoon.

By the time she'd found the tiny, stuccoed pub in Vaskereleven, Ginny was fairly stumbling with hunger and fatigue. Dumbledore had told her the first floor was for Muggles, but that there was a second floor, where she'd find the pub's wizarding clientele. As she entered, the barman looked up from wiping tables. "_God middag!_" he greeted, and then went on in a string of Norwegian that Ginny felt as if she ought to understand bits of, but somehow couldn't make sense of it all.

She smiled and nodded at him nervously, continuing on towards the back stairs. In passing she saw the barman take in her cloak, and a knowing glint came into his eye. He'd obviously recognised that she belonged on the second floor, and he didn't say another word.

The stairs were narrow and a bit rickety, but Ginny hurried up them in spite of this. It had taken her longer than expected to get here, and she hoped the person she was supposed to meet hadn't given up. At the top, she found herself in much dingier surroundings, reminding her of the Leaky Cauldron. The room was dark, and the ceiling low, but there were quite a few customers in the place, in direct contrast to the room downstairs. Ginny squinted through the murky air, making out a familiar set of surly features at the back of the room. She breathed a sigh of relief. He'd waited for her.

She strode towards his table, perhaps a bit too quickly, drawing stares from some of the other patrons. A blush heated her cheeks, as she felt their eyes follow her. Viktor Krum had also spotted her, and he rose out of his chair, catching her as she stumbled at the last minute and holding onto her arm until she'd regained her balance.

"I'm sorry, Viktor," Ginny said, as she sank down into a chair at his table. "I didn't think the trip was going to take me this long."

Viktor stared at her for a moment in confusion. "Trip? What are you talking about?"

"I came by broom."

His eyes widened. "All the way from Hogwarts? That's complete madness. Why didn't you just Portkey?"

"Because I can't make one myself, and I didn't want to ask anyone else to make one for me. Listen, I'm very cold and tired and hungry. Do you think…"

Viktor raised his hand immediately and signalled to the barman, who appeared at their table so quickly, Ginny was sure he'd Apparated. Apparently Viktor Krum was well-known enough to warrant top-notch service. It also explained the curious glances that were still being cast in their direction from the other patrons. Ginny hunched over in her seat, not particularly liking the way some of them were looking at her.

Viktor jabbered something at the barman, who disappeared and soon came back to the table bearing a large, steaming tankard of Butterbeer. Ginny drank deeply, letting the hot liquid flow through her.

"He'll be back with some food," Viktor informed her, nodding after the retreating barman. "What in the hell were you thinking? Can you tell me that? Why couldn't you just ask someone to make you a Portkey?" He'd managed to keep his voice down -- he had to be as aware as Ginny of the amount of attention he attracted -- but she could hear the anger in his tone all the same.

"Because no one knows I'm here, and I don't want them to know. I couldn't ask."

"So you thought it would be fine to risk your life? Do you realise how dangerous it was for you to come here by broom?"

"Yes, Viktor, I know, but this is very important. I told you in my letters I was doing research for a project for school, but that's not quite the truth. This goes far beyond that, but I'd rather not discuss this here. This has to remain a dead secret. I'm willing to tell you about it, but not in a place where someone might listen in. Do you mind if we waited to get to Durmstrang for that? I'll tell you everything then."

"I suppose I don't have much choice if I want to know what made you risk your life to come here."

"No, you haven't."

"I do want to know one thing, though. Who knows you're here?"

"Nobody does." Professor Dumbledore's portrait didn't count in Ginny's mind.

"I see. And what's going to happen when your family realises you're missing?"

"I've arranged for that. They think I've gone back to school early to catch up on my work and prepare for my NEWTs. And no one at Hogwarts expects me back until the beginning of term."

"That gives you a week before anyone knows that you're missing."

"Yes, that's right."

"It's not enough time."

"Does that mean you've found something?"

"I _may_ have, although I don't like it very much. But it's going to take longer than a week to follow up on. You're going to have to let people know where you are."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but at that moment, the barman came back with a plate of food for her. It looked to be some sort of creamy stew made with mutton, cabbage and potatoes. Ginny didn't particularly care at this point. The food was hot and filling, and that's what mattered to her most. 

She could feel Viktor watching her as she applied herself to her food, and she knew he was waiting for her to reply. She continued to eat, ignoring him, but after a while she couldn't stand any more. "Stop it," she hissed at him, barely looking up, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Stop what?"

"What you're doing. I know you're trying to read my mind right now."

"No, Ginny, I'm not," he replied quietly. "If I were doing anything of the sort, you'd know about it. Still, there are some things I can sense without really trying," he went on. "I can tell you've been telling a lot of lies to people. Keeping things to yourself. And that you're not very happy about that."

"I haven't had any choice. Once I've explained everything, you'll understand why this has to remain a secret."

"You're still going to have to let people know where you are. They're going to miss you at Hogwarts next week, and then your family will be contacted. They'll be worried about you. You're going to have to let them know you're all right. And what about Harry?"

Ginny looked up sharply. In all the letters she'd written to him in the past six weeks, she'd never once mentioned any of this had anything to do with Harry. Her stomach tightened uncomfortably, as she wondered just how much Viktor Krum could pick up without even trying. "What about him?" she replied, trying to sound casual.

"Ginny, if I'm going to help you with whatever you're doing, we need to have one thing clear from the beginning. Don't try to lie to me. For one thing I can tell when you're doing it, even if I can't always discern the truth. And I can tell when you're trying to cover something up." He leaned closer on one elbow, while putting the other hand on her forearm and lowering his voice. "I can see how you feel about Harry without even trying. It radiates from you. So don't try to tell me he isn't going to be concerned when you turn up missing."

Ginny swallowed hard and fought off a blush. "All right," she said sullenly, pushing her plate aside. "I'll let them know I'm safe, but nothing else. No one can know what I'm doing."

She rifled in her bag until she'd found a small roll of parchment, a quill and some ink. She tore the parchment into three sections, and scribbled off hasty notes to her mother and Professor McGonagall. The only letter left to write was to Harry, and that was going to be the hardest of them all.

She looked up, considering what she was going to say to him. Krum was scowling around at the other patrons. "Are you almost finished?" he asked, when he turned back to face her. "I don't trust everyone here. There's something…"

"I won't be a minute." She started writing, trying to explain as best she could why things had to be this way. When she'd finished, she folded the parchment, addressing it to The Burrow, sealed it and laid it next to the other two. "How are we going to send these? We haven't got an owl."

"We can leave them with the barman. If we give him money for postage, he'll send them off for us."

That brought up another matter that Ginny was unsure about. She'd brought as much money as she could with her, but it still didn't amount to very much. She was going to have to pay for her meal here, as well as postage, and she had no idea how much that would come to. 

Krum was signalling the barman once again. Ginny fished her money bag out of the pocket of her cloak, but Krum was faster. He handed the letters to the barman, along with several coins. The barman nodded and pocketed the letters. "How much do I owe you?" Ginny asked.

Krum was getting up. "Don't worry about it."

"But…"

"I insist. Now please don't argue. I'd like to get back to Durmstrang now, if you don't mind."

"How are we going to do that? I can't Apparate yet."

"You can't Apparate on the grounds in any case, and it's quite far. But it doesn't matter. There's a village nearby. We can Floo to the inn in the village and walk from there. When you get to the fireplace, you must be very careful to pronounce the name of the inn correctly. It's in Swedish. It's like this: _Trollet och Draken_. Can you say that?"

It took Ginny a couple of tries before she could master the strange pronunciation, and all the way over to the fireplace, she repeated the words under her breath, so she wouldn't forget them. If somehow she managed to mispronounce them, once she was in the Floo network, there was no telling where she might come out.

Viktor took a pouch out of his pocket, and offered it to Ginny, who took a pinch of Floo powder. "Let me go first," he said. "That way you've got more of a chance if you can see me on the other end when you come through."

Ginny watched apprehensively as Viktor Krum cried out the name of the inn and disappeared into the roaring green flames. She concentrated hard, threw her pinch of powder into the fire in her turn and called, "_Trollet och Draken!_" The next thing she knew, she was whirling past grate after grate.

*

Almost before Harry knew it, it was New Year's Eve. He realised it only as he arrived at the Ministry's Apparition point that morning, and overheard a couple of witches talking about their plans for ringing in the new year. Since he'd said good-bye to Ginny and gone back to work the day after Boxing Day, he'd barely had time to breathe. Many of the other Ministry departments had either closed or were running on a reduced staff over the holiday season, but not his division. Some of the earliest cases they'd begun when he'd started working here the previous August would be ready to go to trial soon after the new year, and the entire division was working overtime in preparation.

So that was what constituted Harry's plans for the evening. More work. Not that he had anything better to do with Ginny back at school. He might have toyed with the idea of meeting her in Hogsmeade this evening, but he hadn't even heard from her since she'd left. She had to be too busy with school work, he told himself. After all, he hadn't had any time to write her a letter, either. He'd have to make time for that over his lunch hour.

When he got into the office, he found Gervaise St John had already arrived. He was sitting at his desk, quite absorbed in whatever he was reading. Harry could see his lips moving, as he followed along in the text with an index finger. Harry ignored St John and moved towards his desk.

There were several files on it already; he'd left them there last night when he'd gone home, too tired to really care about putting them away when he knew he'd just have to get them out again the next morning. Sighing heavily, he sat down at his desk and opened the first file. Laying aside a piece of parchment, which he'd covered with doodles of broomsticks while pretending to take notes during a particularly dull staff meeting, he pulled out his quill and picked up where he'd left off.

It wasn't long before a shadow fell across his desk. Harry looked up, perturbed at the interruption, to find St John leering down at him.

"Do you mind?" Harry asked, not bothering to hide his irritation. "I'm trying to work here, and you're in my light." Mentally, he tagged on Mrs Mutt's favourite descriptor.

St John shrugged. "I just thought you'd be interested in your latest press clippings." 

He tossed a newspaper onto Harry's desk. It wasn't the_ Daily Prophet_; it was about half the size of the wizarding paper, with large, red lettering across the top that proclaimed it to be the _Grand Inquisitor_. Harry's eye was immediately drawn to a very large picture of him that had to have been taken on Halloween. Next to the picture, the headline screamed, "Harry Potter's Secret Life: Boy Wizard No Longer." Harry didn't even have to look at the by-line to realise who had written it, but his eye fell on Rita Skeeter's name anyway. She hadn't been heard from since early November, and Harry had to wonder if she'd been sacked from the _Prophet_ as a result of that article. If that had been the case, she'd obviously found herself another job.

"Quite an enlightening article, Potter," St John sneered at him. "You ought to enjoy it."

If he were clever, Harry told himself, his heart sinking, he'd just toss the paper into the waste bin. But something made him look, something deep inside of himself forced him to look at the worst. From the headline, he knew in advance what the article was about. She'd discovered his secret somehow. But how? He thought he'd been so careful. He should have known better. Perhaps if he read the article, there would be some sort of clue.

__

Harry Potter is an eighteen-year-old like no other in the world. Just last June, while still in his last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he performed a spell, which has since been credited by the Ministry of Magic for banishing You-Know-Who. He has since disappeared into relative obscurity. But what is the life of such a well-known wizard really like?

This was the extent of the text that went along with the photo on the front page, but a jumpline indicated there was more within. With a sense of foreboding, Harry swallowed hard and turned the page, knowing that in spite of the neutral beginning, Rita Skeeter was no doubt just warming up.

__

Like so many of us Harry Potter gets up in the morning, eats breakfast and goes off to his job at the Ministry of Magic. Like so many other Ministry employees, he appears at the designated Apparition point and walks to his office in the Department of Magical Law enforcement. He was hired on by Badon Hill in an entry-level position, which requires a great deal of skill with filing procedures. In the evening, he returns to Ottery St Catchpole, where he resides as a houseguest of the Weasley family, often bringing work home with him. If he is not too fatigued from his strenuous existence, he may even pen a letter to his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, who is currently in her final year at Hogwarts. Like so many boys his age, he is faced with the decision of whether to strike out on his own.

To the casual reader, all of this might seem like a perfectly normal, and even mundane, existence. If one were to question things even further, one might even ask how such a seemingly powerful wizard -- one who managed to defeat You-Know-Who when no other wizard, not even the renowned Albus Dumbledore, had found the means to do so -- has come to be living such a life. 

Why isn't he playing professional Quidditch? After all, he was known at school as the youngest Seeker in over a century, playing for his house team since his first year. For five of his seven years, he was one of the keys to the success of the Gryffindor team, such as it was, and one would suppose that had Quidditch matches not been entirely cancelled in the other two years he was at Hogwarts, his record would be even more impressive.

Why hasn't he become an Auror like his good friend, Ron Weasley? Surely someone with the means to defeat You-Know-Who would be perfectly qualified for the position. Why isn't he doing any number of more high-profile and exciting jobs with the sort of NEWT results he attained?

Thanks to the efforts of this reporter, the Grand Inquisitor_ can now exclusively reveal those reasons, reasons which Harry Potter himself has taken great pains to hide. Harry Potter cannot play professional Quidditch or serve as an Auror for the simple reason that he no longer possesses any magical powers._

This may seem quite a sensational accusation to the reader, but this reporter has gone to great effort to prove that this is true. Harry Potter may appear to Apparate to his place of work every morning, but research into Department of Magical Transportation records shows no Apparition license was ever granted to Harry Potter. One can find the records for his friends and fellow classmates, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, as well as those for other students in his year at Hogwarts, but none for their most famous school-mate. And yet he takes great pains to appear as if he's Apparating to work like everyone else.

Further investigation has revealed that Mr Potter performs the most basic of tasks using no magic at all. He shaves in the morning using a Muggle razor, rather than an Imberbus Charm. At work, if he is asked for a file, he does not Summon it, he fetches it. He attended a recent league Quidditch match, travelling not by Apparition, but by Muggle transport and on foot, while he arrived at the Winter Solstice Ball at Hogwarts using a Portkey. Indeed, he does almost all of his travelling by means of a special Portkey, which he keeps hidden in his pocket at all times, making it look as if he's Apparating.

In a recent conversation with friend Ron Weasley, Harry Potter was even heard to admit he no longer possessed any magical powers. The two were discussing the possibility of moving out of the elder Weasleys' home and into a flat of their own when Mr Potter claimed aloud he had no magic. 

This now begs the question of why. Why all the deception, Mr Potter? Why have you gone to such lengths to keep your condition a secret? How many other secrets have you been keeping, and what damage have they done to the innocent people who worship you?

The article continued onto the next page, and Harry turned it in spite of himself. He'd known from the beginning that this was it, that his secret was out, and that knowledge had helped him steel himself against the blow. This wasn't as bad as he'd thought. He could deal with this. He already knew how Rita herself had discovered his secret. She'd dug into the Ministry records simply because that was what she did and had found that he possessed no Apparition license. From there, she'd kept her eyes and ears open. She'd obviously been at the Falmouth match he and Ron had attended, and it looked as if she'd been crawling through his pockets in her Animagus form. She'd probably even sneaked a ride home with him in the pocket of his cloak a time or two. Harry forced himself to breathe.

Then he got a good look at the next page and felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of him. There on the page was a picture of Ginny, and she wasn't alone. Was that Viktor Krum with her? It was difficult to tell, since his back was partially turned towards the camera, and the angle seemed to be funny, as if the photographer had been hiding under something nearby. Ginny and Viktor looked to be sitting at a table in a dingy pub that Harry didn't recognise, but he wasn't paying much attention to their surroundings. He was too busy watching them stare intently into each other's eyes, while Viktor stroked Ginny's arm.

No, he told himself, that couldn't be right. The picture had to have been doctored in some way. This wasn't exactly a reputable newspaper from the looks of it. In any case, Viktor was at Durmstrang this year, and Ginny was back at Hogwarts. 

He turned back to the article, angry now for Ginny's sake. He'd read to the end, and if Rita Skeeter had done anything to Ginny's reputation, there would be hell to pay.

__

Does the secrecy have anything to do with the nature of the spell you used on You-Know-Who? the article went on._ Because you were in possession of your powers at least up until that point, and a spell which would rob you of your powers can be nothing less than Dark Magic. _

It is well known that the Dark Arts are nothing new to Mr Potter. He revealed himself to be a Parselmouth in his second year, and it is a known fact that the ability to speak to serpents is the sign of a Dark Wizard. His godfather is a convicted murder who consorts with werewolves. And we cannot forget that Cedric Diggory died under very mysterious circumstances. Even if You-Know-Who did kill him, as Harry Potter has claimed, the fact remains that Mr Potter stood by and did nothing to stop this tragedy.

Given his history, it comes as no surprise that Mr Potter would resort to such means to defeat You-Know-Who. Part of the spell evidently backfired, however. Not only was the world stripped of a Dark Lord, but Mr Potter's powers were stripped from him as well. Had he known this was a possibility he would never have used such means. There is a lesson to be drawn from his experiences: if you play with fire, you are very likely to be burnt.

It looks very much as if Mr Potter's lack of magical ability matters to at least one person, his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley. Or perhaps former girlfriend would be more accurate. She has, by all appearances, taken up with Viktor Krum. Alert readers will recall that Mr Potter has had similar problems in the past when his fourth-year girlfriend, Hermione Granger, was also torn between him and Mr Krum. While Miss Granger maintains an amicable relationship with both Mr Potter and Mr Krum, she's evidently found both of them lacking in the romance department, as she is currently dating Ron Weasley, a very tall boy, who is no doubt well endowed in other ways than mere height.

Ginny Weasley and Viktor Krum were seen meeting publicly a few days ago, and she was sporting a new and very expensive cloak. This reporter wonders which of the two famous wizards bought it for her. Her family isn't particularly well known for its wealth, and Miss Weasley obviously has a taste for the finer things. She'll want a wizard who is able to provide her with them, and it looks very much as if Mr Potter is no longer able to satisfy her needs.

One also has to wonder in which other areas the young Miss Weasley might be comparing the two wizards. This reporter overheard a conversation between Mr Potter and Miss Weasley's older brother, in which they made plans to spend the night with their respective girlfriends, and in doing so planned on deceiving Molly Weasley. It is obvious that the holier-than-thou Molly Weasley hasn't the slightest idea of everything her numerous brood gets up to. She might be well advised to keep a closer eye on her daughter.

If Miss Weasley has suddenly left Mr Potter after the consummation of their relationship, might it be because she found something lacking in his attentions. Perhaps a lack of magic has rendered Mr Potter impotent in more ways than one. Or perhaps she's merely concerned about a pregnancy, since Mr Potter is unable to cast a contraceptive charm. A look at her family history on both her mother's and father's side would bear this out…

There was more, but Harry couldn't stand to read another word. He was tempted to crumple the paper into a ball and throw it into St John's leering face. St John was back at his desk, but it was clear to Harry that he was only pretending to work. He had to be waiting for an angry outburst from Harry. Well, Harry wasn't about to give him that satisfaction. 

He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He remembered Hermione's oft-repeated advice of, "Ignore them, ignore them, ignore them," whenever Draco Malfoy had started in on him. But this was far, far worse than anything Malfoy had ever dished out. Before he could even stop to think what he was doing, his hand had balled itself into a fist. He wanted to hit something. He had to hit something. But he couldn't. He couldn't let anyone see that this was affecting him. He began to shake with the effort of suppressing the anger.

"Is everything all right, dear?"

Harry looked up to find Mrs Mutt peering at him the concern evident in both her eyes and tone. He fought for control. "Yes, everything's fine." 

He knew as soon as the words were out that he didn't sound convincing. As he watched, Mrs Mutt's eyes glanced down at his desk, where the tabloid still lay open. He made a grab for it, but Mrs Mutt was surprisingly quick for her age. She picked up the paper and clucked at the picture. He remained silent while she glanced at the front page.

"You can't put any stock in this, you know," she said. "They can doctor pictures."

"She's up at school…" Harry croaked. He knew he wasn't really responding to Mrs Mutt's statement, but it was the best he could do at the moment. "I need… I need to go. Tell Hill there's been an emergency."

He knew what he had to do now; he had to get to Ginny. She was going to hear about this article eventually, he was certain of it. Harry didn't want her hearing about it from the wrong people, and he knew from her letters that there was a pack of Slytherin girls who would be all to happy to gloat over the article in front of her, much as St John had done to him. Without a further word to anyone, he left the office, went to the Apparition point and activated his Portkey.

When he came out in Hogsmeade, a harsh wind whipped at his face, its merciless fingers finding their way through his thin shirt. He hadn't brought his cloak with him from The Burrow, as he hadn't expected to have to go outside today. As cold as the blast was, it did nothing to cool his anger… Ginny… He had to focus on her. She was most important at the moment. He ignored the voice in his head that told him she wouldn't be there. Once he'd broken the news to her, he'd decide what he was going to do about Rita Skeeter.

He walked as quickly as he could up the drive which led to the steps in front of the castle. Climbing them and going through the front doors into the deserted entrance hall, he hesitated a moment. He could go up to Gryffindor Tower and see if Ginny was there, but there was no guarantee she would be. In any case he had no idea what the password was. Perhaps she was still at breakfast.

He entered the Great Hall. The long room stretched out before him; the parallel house tables pointing towards the staff table on its dais were all empty. There were no staff in sight, either. Harry let out a sigh of frustration. Many of the staff had to have gone home for the holidays, along with most of the students. He knew Hermione was spending the rest of the time off with her parents. 

He turned around, resolved to argue his case with the Fat Lady, but he'd got no more than halfway up the marble staircase when he nearly ran into Nearly-Headless Nick. He halted just in time to avoid walking through the Gryffindor ghost.

"Nick!" he said. "It's a good thing I've run into you."

"Harry Potter!" Nick greeted him jovially. "What brings you here in the middle of the Christmas holiday?"

"Yes, well, perhaps you can help me. I need to find Ginny, and I haven't got the password into Gryffindor Tower. Do you think you could give it to me? Or go in yourself and get Ginny to come out so I can talk to her?"

"Ginny?"

"Yes, Ginny Weasley. She's in seventh year."

"Yes, I know, but she's not here."

"What do you mean, she's not here? She's got to be here!"

"No, she hasn't come back from holiday yet. I looked in on the meal last night. There are very few students who stayed on this year. None of the seventh-year Gryffindors stayed any longer than the ball."

"She's GOT to be here! You don't understand! I brought her back myself just a few days ago! If she's not here, then _where the hell has she gone_?"

Nick looked concerned. "I'm sorry, but she hasn't been back here."

The Burrow. Harry had to get back to The Burrow. Ginny would never have gone off somewhere without letting her mother know where she'd be. The voice in his mind was back, reminding him mockingly that by all appearances, she'd done just that. She hadn't sent any owls to her mother in the past five days, either.

He turned and began to careen down the marble staircase, across the entrance hall and out the door, as if he could outrun the voice, or at least drown it out with his thudding footfalls. He didn't stop until he'd reached the front gate where he'd said good-bye to Ginny for the last time. Then he reached into his pocket and activated his Portkey once again.

He landed in the kitchen with a crash, expecting to shock Mrs Weasley with his unexpected arrival. But once he'd got to his feet, he realised the house was far too quiet.

"Mrs Weasley?" he called. But there was no reply. 

"Dammit," he muttered to himself. And then his eye fell onto the kitchen table, where the morning post usually lay. It was empty. There hadn't been an owl today, either. He began to open drawers and cupboards, looking for anything that might be an envelope. There had to be one. There just had to. 

But he found nothing. Ginny's room. Perhaps she'd left some sort of clue there. Bounding up the stairs, he burst into her room. It was neat and clean, the faded blue walls belying nothing. He went over to her desk, pulling out the drawers and spilling their contents onto the floor, but discovering nothing beyond some old, dried-up ink bottles, several dulled quills, and a few limp scraps of parchment. He turned towards her wardrobe and yanked the doors open. There was nothing in it but a few articles of summer clothing, and her dress robes. He pulled everything out and tossed it to the floor. Nothing. There was nothing! Then, just as he was leaving, he noticed her night table. The glimmer of hope that rose in him briefly was dashed when he saw the picture of them from the ball. Wherever she'd gone, she hadn't taken it with her. He swiped the frame angrily to the floor as well, and went back down to the kitchen.

He'd just have to try harder. He pulled the drawers completely out of their cabinetry this time, dumping out their contents, the cutlery clattering onto the floor. He even went as far as looking into the waste bin, but the contents of the waste bin were far worse than anything else he'd unearthed so far. This was worse than finding nothing. For there in the bin lay a crumpled copy of the _Grand Inquisitor_. Harry knew immediately that he'd been sent a courtesy copy. Rita Skeeter had wanted to be sure he saw her exposé. He kicked the waste bin over, not caring that its contents were now strewn about the floor among the forks and spoons. He aimed his foot at the tabloid a few more times, intending to stomp it to shreds and making an even bigger mess of things, but the action brought him no comfort.

There was no letter. There never had been a letter, and there never would be. Ginny had done the unthinkable and left him. She'd told him she wanted to marry him on Christmas Day. Had all that been a lie?

He took a step backwards and came into contact with the wall. Slowly he slid down it until he was in a heap on the floor, and a wild, desperate roar of pain burst from his gut at last. Then he buried his face in his hands and began to sob. 

He didn't know how long he sat there, while he poured out his pain. It might have been a few minutes, or it might have been hours. He no longer had any way of knowing. After a while, a voice reached his ears from seemingly far away. He noticed his hands had moved up into his hair, and he was tearing at it.

Swiping at his eyes, he looked up. From across the room, he could see someone's head in the fireplace, calling out for Mrs Weasley. He didn't think he could be seen from the grate, but he didn't want to take any chances. Slowly he inched his way along the wall until he'd rounded the corner into the living room.

He was going to have to get out of here. Mrs Weasley might come back at any time, and he couldn't let her see him. Not when he knew she'd read that article. He got to his feet and dashed up to the top of the house. If he was going to leave, he'd have to do it now.

Hedwig hooted at him from her cage, as he entered Ron's room. He ignored her, as he began to take clothes out of the wardrobe and toss them carelessly into his trunk. Hedwig hooted again, sounding more indignant this time.

"Quiet," he snapped at her. "I've got to get out of here."

Hedwig let out an angry screech. 

"I'm leaving, and nothing you can say is going to stop me, so you might as well shut it."

He shut the lid of his trunk with a loud bang, and reached out to lock Hedwig's cage. "Ouch!" She'd managed to bite his finger hard, through the bars. "You can try all you like, but you're still not going to stop me."

He picked up the cage, gripped the handle of his trunk, and activated his Portkey for the final time that day, disappearing from The Burrow.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Thanks to everyone who continues to read and review this story. I can't give you an ETA on the next chapter, because I'm going to be away for a bit, but I'm hoping to be able to get it out by the end of March. I'm still very hopeful about finishing this by June 21, as well.


	20. Chapter 20

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Twenty

Ginny could feel herself drifting. She opened her grainy eyes just a bit wider and stared at the runes on the page in front of her, but her brain refused to make sense of them. She had no idea what time it was. It was dark in the winter at Durmstrang, and the light changed little to mark the passing hours.

She was no longer certain how many days had passed since her arrival. The place was empty. Viktor had told her everyone went home over the Christmas holidays, and Ginny could see why. The only constants here were the cold and the dark, and in spite of the fact that the castle was smaller than Hogwarts, it was oppressive and cheerless.

She shivered and huddled more closely under the blanket she'd spread over herself for warmth, as there was no fireplace in the small lounge, which was part of Viktor's private quarters. Indeed, there didn't seem to be many fireplaces at all from what she'd seen of the castle, causing her to wonder how the students managed to learn anything in this environment. At least they missed the worst of the winter, since the Christmas holidays lasted until nearly the end of January.

"What are you doing up? Did you go to bed at all?"

Viktor's abrupt question caused Ginny to start, and she realised she must have dropped off in spite of the chill. The book she'd been reading had slipped out of her hand and onto the wide planks of the floor. She looked up to see him standing there in his dressing gown and slippers, obviously having just emerged from his bedroom.

"Sorry, I just wanted to finish going over this. What time is it?"

"It's six in the morning. You haven't been getting much sleep since we got here."

"I don't need much sleep. I can sleep when we're done."

She'd told him the entire story the day they'd arrived at the school. Viktor had been shocked when he understood what Harry had done for the wizarding world, but there had also been amazement in his reaction. "I had no idea," he'd said almost to himself. "None at all. How could anyone do such a thing? I couldn't. I don't know anyone who could."

"Then you don't really know Harry," Ginny had told him. "He had to do it or die trying. He'd have used any means possible, even if it meant his life. As it was, he gave up his powers, but he chose to do it. If he'd not done this in the end, he wouldn't have been able to live with himself, because he knew this was the right thing to do. That's just who he is."

"And now you'd do anything you could to help him get back what he gave up," Viktor had replied.

"Yes. Anything."

And Viktor had agreed to help her, stating that he'd always admired Harry from the time he'd met him in Harry's fourth year. He'd thought it was a terrible thing that someone with Harry's flying skills and obvious love of flight might never be able to do so again, but the fact that he'd given all that up willingly was admirable. Harry deserved to have that back if he could. And it wasn't just the flying; it was everything: Harry had obviously possessed incredible magical talent to be able to compete in and win the Triwizard Tournament at the age of fourteen, and he deserved to have it all restored to him.

Viktor crossed his arms over his chest and looked sceptical. "You won't be in any condition to travel if you don't get some rest," he told her now, as she yawned in spite of herself. "You don't have any idea what else you'll have to do, either. This isn't going to be easy, you know. These things never are. We'll be asking a lot, and even if we get what we want, there will be some sort of price. You know that, don't you?"

"Whatever it is, it'll be worth it."

"And what if it's something physical? Will you be in any condition for that? You've barely been eating. All you've done since you got here is research."

"I've _had _to. You know that. We have to be sure this is the only way, don't we?"

They'd had a long discussion about other possibilities a few days ago. Viktor had shown her what he'd unearthed, but he'd told her then it seemed like a long shot. They'd tossed a few other scenarios back and forth, and Ginny had explained how she and Hermione had spent the previous autumn looking through all the books in the Hogwarts library, finding nothing useful. When Ginny had mentioned the torn-out page, Viktor had asked her about the possibility of using a time turner to go back and find what had been written there. Ginny had already discussed that scenario with Professor Dumbledore's portrait, and the idea had been rejected. The former headmaster had explained to her that the further one went back in time to tamper with events, the greater the possibility of disaster occurring. On top of that, she'd have had to relive about nine months of her life, while not letting herself been seen the entire time. Time turners only worked in one direction: backwards; they could not be used to return to the present.

"I think we've decided it is, haven't we?" Viktor was saying. "All that's left to do now is set out, but we're not going anywhere until you've had some rest and a decent meal."

"You're as bad as my brothers, you know that? Mum, too."

"Well, someone has to look after you, because you're certainly not doing it yourself. Have you taken a good look at yourself lately? You're too thin, you've got circles under your eyes, you haven't got your usual spark…" 

He broke off quickly and looked down, pulling the lapels of his dressing gown closer, as if he'd only just realised he was standing in front of her in a state of undress. Ginny wanted to laugh at his reaction. Her brothers had never had that much concern for her sensibilities; she'd seen them in less and never thought twice about it. She'd even seen Harry in his pyjamas on his summer visits to the Burrow before they'd got together. She had to conclude that Bulgarians were much more concerned with appearances. Viktor hadn't seemed to be particularly comfortable with the fact that she was staying in his rooms, even if it was in a guest room and the school was deserted but for them.

"I'm going to get dressed. I want you to go to bed, and I don't want to see you until lunch time at least."

"But…"

"No buts. We can't leave today anyway, and we certainly won't if you're not fed and rested."

Ginny fought the urge to salute, but she knew he was right. They were facing another long journey, and although she now had someone going with her who could make travelling easier, they still didn't know how much time it would take them to reach their ultimate goal. 

She got out of her armchair and entered the small guest bedroom, which adjoined lounge. It was comfortable enough with its cosy bed covered with a thick eider down comforter. It was just the thing for the northern winter in this draughty castle. She undressed quickly, shivering in the cold, realising as she did so that Viktor had to be used to the harsh conditions here. His dressing gown hadn't been all that heavy, and he hadn't acted as if he was chilly at all. She couldn't imagine getting used to the endless cold and darkness. Putting on a warm flannel night dress, and casting an extra warming charm over the bed, she dived under the comforter and went to sleep.

A knock at the door woke her several hours later. It was still dark out, but that was no indication she'd slept the day away. "What is it?" she called.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but it's almost supper time. We don't know how many more chances we'll have for a hot meal once we've set off. It's better if we get them while we can."

"All right, I'll be along."

Teeth chattering as she left the warmth of the bed, she reached for her clothes, throwing them on as quickly as she could. The smell of something hot and filling greeted her when she emerged from her room. They'd been taking all their meals in Viktor's rooms, since they were the only ones at the school. Ginny had seen very little of the rest of the castle beyond the library.

"I can't believe I slept so long," Ginny said, as she sat down across from him.

"You needed it. You didn't even stir when I came…" Viktor stopped, but Ginny had the feeling he was about to say he'd been in to check on her. She almost asked if he had, but she got the distinct feeling he was too embarrassed to admit it, so she changed the subject.

"So are we leaving in the morning?" 

"Impatient, aren't you?"  


"I want to get this done. I've been putting my studies on hold for this. As it is I'm going to miss the beginning of term. What day is it, anyway?"

"Second of January."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "We missed New Year's, and I didn't even notice." She couldn't stop herself from thinking of Harry and wondering what he'd done two evenings ago. She'd left him alone. "But maybe there's a chance…"

"For what?"

"To make it back to school in time for term."

"You've only got two days before your term begins. Do you really think we're going to be able to find the place and do what we need to in two days?"

"No, I suppose not." She turned her attention to her plate of food. It was piping hot, and that was all she cared about. "But I still want to get back as soon as possible. I don't want to get behind in my studies again."

"I don't think we ought to rush into this."

Ginny put down her fork. Just yesterday, they'd drawn the conclusion that this was the best way. "Why? We've been through this."

"I don't know. It's a feeling I have. Something's not quite right here. There's something dishonest…"

"I haven't been lying to you," Ginny said quickly.

"No, I know that. It's not you. That's what's strange about it. It's… it's in the text."

"You can tell if something written on a page is a lie?"

"That's just it. I'm not supposed to be able to. I need to have someone in front of me in order to read them, and it takes a conscious effort. This is the first time this has ever happened to me."

"How did you learn you could do that… You know, read people."

"Karkaroff suspected it," Viktor said with distaste. "After the tournament, he had me tested."

"But shouldn't you have known Karkaroff was bad then?" Ginny had learned something about Soul Searchers last year in a book on rare magical talents that Hermione had bullied her into reading. "Wouldn't you have had an idea?"

"I should have known, shouldn't I? I never did like him, and with good reason as it turned out."

"And shouldn't you have suspected something wasn't right about Mad-Eye Moody?"

"I might have if I'd had more contact. Karkaroff tried to keep us away from the other students and teachers as much as he could."

"But you managed to meet Hermione."

Viktor looked down at his plate of food, avoiding Ginny's eye. "I had a feeling about her. I can usually sense good in people more easily than bad. I suppose that's what attracted me to her…" He paused for a moment before continuing. "Anyway, Karkaroff took me to someone and had me trained. He wanted me to use my talent for the Dark Lord, but I'd had enough of him controlling me by then. I got away and went to Dumbledore. He gave me a job at Hogwarts, but that didn't stop me from using my talent for Lucius Malfoy."

"That wasn't your fault. You didn't do that of your own will."

"No, I was controlled. And I should have seen Professor Grubbly-Plank wasn't all she seemed, as well, but she was a difficult case. She wasn't completely acting of her own free will, either. She was under duress. She wasn't evil, and I didn't try to look into her heart. Perhaps I should have, but I didn't. I just went on my instinct with her." 

He paused and took a deep breath. "Most of my life I've been controlled by someone else." He was changing the subject, and Ginny had to wonder if the events of last year still weighed on him. "I loved flying, you know. When I was flying I was free. I could do what I wanted. I didn't have to listen to anyone else's orders. But Karkaroff even managed to turn that against me. I was talented at Quidditch, you see. And I loved the game at first. But then they kept on making me play and train until they took my only escape away from me. Or they tried. I showed them on a few occasions during matches. I was Seeker. _I_ controlled the outcome."

Ginny suddenly remembered the final match of the Quidditch World Cup, when Viktor had caught the Snitch even though his team had been too far behind to make up the difference in the score and win. Her brothers had discussed the outcome in detail in the tent after the match and on many other occasions, and she remembered Harry saying something about Krum ending the match on his own terms. Perhaps that was what Viktor was referring to.

"I know what you mean, I think," Ginny said. "I've had my family holding me back my whole life. They always tell you what you can -- and mostly what you can't do -- when you're the youngest and the only girl."

"It's not quite the same. Your family did those things out of love and concern for you. Karkaroff was using me for his own ends."

"And Lucius Malfoy didn't use me last year?"

"Yes… yes, he did. That's what happens when you're talented. People want a piece of you."

"It's all useless in the end, though. I don't _want_ to make use of my talent. I don't want it. It's too exhausting, and now that the war is over, what good does it do? I'm grateful I made Harry a talisman. It saved his life. But beyond that, what good did my talent ever do anyone?"

"About as much good as mine has ever done me."

"You're a teacher now. Surely being able to tell whether your students are lying to you comes in handy."

Viktor smiled a bit at that. "Well, yes it does for things like that. But mostly all it's ever brought me is trouble."

"Why didn't you go back to playing Quidditch this year? You could have."

"Yes, I could, but this was my choice to make. It was my choice to teach. And now that Karkaroff is gone, I know I can help make this school a better place."

"Do you think you could convince the headmaster to put in a better heating system?" Ginny asked, feeling a smile begin to creep over her features. "Maybe get him to let people light fires?"

"That might be worth a try."

*

They left the following morning, shivering in the dark as they trudged across the expansive grounds through the drifting snow to the small inn -- Viktor had told her its name translated to the Troll and Dragon -- in the nearby village, where they'd come out a week before. Ginny adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she repeated the name of their destination under her breath. She'd had to memorise another impossible-sounding Swedish designation, and she had to be sure she got it right. She'd been lucky that she hadn't mispronounced anything on her arrival here, and she definitely didn't want to get lost this time. Not when they actually had a goal in mind.

They had gone over the final plans the previous evening, while packing up what they'd need, before Viktor had insisted she go back to bed. They were going to Floo down to the southern coast of Sweden, and from there, they'd have to take to their brooms, which they'd magically shrunk and packed away, to cross a narrow straight to Denmark. From that point on, they'd be relying on guesswork and landmarks to find their ultimate destination.

The Troll and Dragon, when they reached it, looked as if it was locked up tightly. Ginny decided this wasn't really surprising. The village must generally shut down at this time of year, with the school closed for the holidays. She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to come up here for a drink or to do his shopping the way witches and wizards came up to Hogsmeade for the day. In the dead of winter, there couldn't be any guests staying at the inn.

Viktor had to bang on the door for a long time before the innkeeper came down and opened it for them. He was an older man, dressed in a nightshirt that flapped around his spindly bare legs. He glared at the pair of them for a moment, obviously irritated with them for getting him out of bed, before barking something terse at Viktor in Swedish. Viktor replied evenly, reaching inside his cloak and producing a few Sickles. 

The innkeeper's demeanour immediately changed, and he gave Ginny and Viktor a toothless grin as he showed them into the tiny bar. The fireplace was full of ashes from the previous night, and the owner pointed his wand at it and cried, "_Incendio!_" He then went over to the mantelpiece and offered Viktor and Ginny a pinch of Floo powder each from a cracked jar.

As he had in Bergen, Viktor went first, crying out their destination and disappearing with a burst of emerald green flame. Ginny followed, concentrating on what she must say. "_Den Blonda Gudinnan!_" she shouted, and immediately she was drawn into the maw of the Floo network. She spun for a long time, taking care to keep her elbows tucked in and passing many grates before she felt herself slowing. Making sure to keep her eyes open for Viktor, she finally stumbled out at another dingy pub. Viktor was waiting for her in the dimly lit room, but at least there seemed to be a sunrise here. A watery greyness permeated the deserted room where she now found herself.

When they'd reached the street outside, Ginny found they were in the middle of a large Muggle town. It was still early, but there were people about on their way to work. Climbing on their brooms and taking to the air was out of the question at this point. It would have been too easy for the Muggles to spot them. They were going to have to walk until they found a place where they could take to the skies unseen. Ginny hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder and trudged off after Viktor, who seemed to have an idea where he was going.

It seemed to take forever to get to the outskirts of town. The sun had risen halfway to the zenith, the cold was less than it had been further north, and that was something. But Ginny was still footsore and tired by the time they stopped. They were well out of town, and the land around them was empty. It was now safe for them to take their brooms from their packs and return them to their normal size so they could fly the rest of the way.

Ginny immediately pulled her bag from her shoulder and took out the Firebolt, ignoring the protests coming from her aching feet and legs. She'd be in the air soon, and her feet could rest then. Viktor looked hard at her. "Don't you think we should take a bit of a break?" he asked. "We've been walking so long, we need it."

Ginny sighed. She was itching to be off. "All right, but not too long. We don't know how many hours of daylight are left. Once it gets dark, we won't be able to see landmarks anymore."

"Ginny, just take a rest for five minutes? Please?"

"Five minutes," she agreed, "and then we need to be off." 

Viktor pulled a smaller pouch out of his bag and produced some bread and dried fruit. "You can eat something while we're waiting. We didn't have breakfast."

Ginny didn't feel particularly hungry -- she was too impatient to be on her way once more -- but she took a piece of bread and a few dried apricots, and washed it all down with a few swallows of bottled water to placate Viktor. She was used to this in a way; she'd done it often enough in the past. It was like pretending to eat to please her mother.

"Are we clear about what we're looking for?" Viktor asked, between bites.

Ginny resisted the temptation to point out to Viktor that he was going into teacher mode now. "Yeah. We fly across the straight to Helsingor, turn south-west and follow the motorway until we come to a large lake. We'll know it's the right lake if we see a town with a palace nearby, and from there we'll be searching along the western edge of the lake for the sign."

"And we're going to have to hope the sign is still evident."

"It's supposed to be fairly easy to spot from the air if you know what to look for."

"A thousand years ago, you mean. Who knows what's there now?"

"It'll be there," Ginny insisted. "It has to be. This is our last chance."

"Then let's be off and see what we can find," Viktor replied. He didn't sound happy, and Ginny had to wonder if he was hoping they wouldn't be able to find what they were looking for.

Once they'd taken to the air, it didn't take long at all for them to cross into Denmark and reach the uninhabited side of the lake. The problem now facing them was a search along about six miles of shoreline, which, under normal circumstances, shouldn't have posed too many difficulties. They were both mounted on racing brooms, and they weren't in much danger of being seen. But they didn't even know if the runic symbol would still be where the books described it. The lie of the land had certainly changed in a thousand years. As it was, upon arrival, it was immediately obvious that they were fortunate to have attempted this in winter. Deciduous trees covered the ground right down to the shore, and in summer a canopy of leaves would have hidden all the signs, making the search that much more difficult.

They flew for hours, beginning high up in the sky and passing lower to the ground each time, looking for the symbol. The weather was warmer here than it had been at Durmstrang, or even in Norway on the day Ginny had crossed the North Sea, but there was something penetrating about the cold that sunk in deeper and deeper the longer they were out in it. The sun had also begun its descent towards the horizon, and Ginny began to despair that they'd have time to find what they wanted in the remaining daylight. If they missed it today, they'd have to begin again tomorrow, but that would mean another day wasted, as they would have to await the next sunrise to attempt their plan.

The shadows of the naked trees were long over the lake, pointing back eastwards towards more populous regions, when Ginny saw it at last. She gave a shout and flew a bit lower to be sure, but there it was. There was a clearing among the trees, like so many others they'd passed, but this one had a large stone in it, and on the stone there appeared a large but faint tracing that looked like an X. But Ginny knew it wasn't really an X; it was the rune Gebo. Gebo for Gefinn.

Ginny pointed the Firebolt towards the ground without even looking to see if Viktor was following. She knew he would be. Landing on the stone, she saw the marking from this vantage was actually a pair of cracks that met in the centre of the rock face. After a thousand years' time and more they should have been worn away, but Ginny could see that they ran deep into the surface, so deep that she couldn't tell if there was one stone here or four stones that fit together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Viktor asked as he landed.

"It has to be. It fits the description well enough, and we haven't seen anything else like it."

"That's just the problem. It fits too well. It shouldn't. Not after all this time."

"I don't know," replied Ginny. "It's like when we landed here we entered another time." 

She didn't know where the words had come from, but as she said them, she knew they were true. Looking around her, she could see that the surrounding trees -- they looked to be a mix of ash and elm -- had taken on an entirely different aspect. They definitely grew more thickly than they'd appeared to from the air, and even as she watched, she had the impression that they'd closed ranks around the stone, and that if she tried to penetrate them, they would not allow her to pass. An involuntary shiver coursed through her, and she looked up to reassure herself. The sky was still an open patch of deepening blue above them. Escape was still possible.

"I don't like this," Viktor said. "Something isn't right about this place."

"Perhaps it's because you're not…" Ginny broke off, not quite knowing how to put it.

"What? A maiden?"

"Well, yes," Ginny replied, reddening. "She's a goddess of maidens. Maybe she thinks you're intruding."

Viktor gave a harsh laugh. "That's just too bad. I don't like this place, and there's no way I'm going to let you stay here by yourself. Don't you feel it?"

"What?"

"The animosity."

"No," Ginny replied, and it wasn't a lie. She didn't feel animosity so much as she felt… trapped. But there was nothing she could do about that. She'd either have to go ahead with the plan or turn back and admit defeat. "Listen," she went on, trying to cast the situation in a better light. "Have you studied the runes at all?"

"Not much. Only enough to know there was something about all this in the library. I wouldn't have been able to decipher how to find this place in the texts the way you did."

"Do you know what Gebo means? It's got a symbolic meaning."

"No."

"It means gift, generally, or at least it does on the surface. It's got some other meanings that fall under that. Partnership, trade, love, harmony, a crossroads, decisions… But Gefinn means 'giver'." 

"You do know that a gift implied an exchange to the Norse, don't you?"

"Yes. That's where the trade bit comes in. It's a give and take. I never went into this thinking I'd get what I was asking for nothing in return. You know that. You keep bringing this up."

"And what if you're asked for something you can't give?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. At the moment, there aren't too many things that fall into that category."

Viktor looked sharply at her, and she knew he was trying to get a reading on her, to see just how far she'd be willing to go for Harry. She let him look; she didn't care if he knew. 

"Let's make camp then," was all he said after a long moment. It was all they could do for now. According to the texts, they wouldn't be able to approach the goddess until dawn. 

The rock was much higher and steeper than it appeared from the air, so that Ginny had to stumble and slide down the side, nearly falling against Viktor when she reached the bottom. He put his hands on her shoulders to steady her as she came to a halt on the ground. From this vantage, there was no indication of the mark on the top of the stone. It merely looked like an outcropping in the midst of the forest. 

Ginny could see an indentation in the side of the rock. The deep crack that crossed its upper face was visible here, and it widened as it descended, forming an opening. Instinct told her she had only to enter this when the sun rose the next morning to reach her final goal. She wondered if she'd manage to sleep tonight.

*

Ginny spent a restless night in their camp. In spite of a thick sleeping bag with her cloak spread out over it and numerous warming charms, she was cold. The cushioning charm she'd cast on the ground before lying down hadn't seemed to work as effectively as usual, either. It was as if there was another magic at work in this place, one that superseded her own.

From the sound of things, Viktor hadn't fared much better. For most of the night, she'd been aware of him tossing and turning on the other side of the blanket they'd rigged up to split their tent down the middle and afford Ginny some privacy. She had the feeling that even if Viktor had been comfortable enough to drop off, he would have made an effort to remain awake. Something told her he would have kept watch most of the night no matter what.

All seemed quiet at the moment, as Ginny put on her cloak and eased herself out of the tent. The waters of the lake were ice-rimmed and still, reflecting the deep blue sky above, which still held a few stars. They were winking out one by one as the sky to the east lightened with the approaching dawn. 

Ginny glanced at her watch. It was about seven in the morning. Her heart began to pound with anticipation and apprehension. Soon. Soon she would know. There was still one thing she needed. Casting a warming charm to thaw the frosty ground, she scratched up a handful of earth and put it in her pocket.

She found a secluded spot to relieve herself and paused to wash her hands in the icy lake. Splashing some water onto her face made her bite back a squeal at its chill, but it wakened her fully. Making her way back to the tent, she found Viktor poking his head out, looking as if he wanted to ask her where she'd been. He obviously worked it out for himself in the next instant, for he simply nodded a curt good morning to her before going off himself, while Ginny rummaged through their packs for some breakfast.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked when he got back and Ginny had handed him some food.

"Of course. Are you still getting a bad feeling about this place?"

Viktor looked around him, and Ginny saw his eyes stray to the entrance of the cave. "I don't know. The feeling's changed. I sense curiosity now more than anything."

Ginny wouldn't have admitted it, but she was relieved to hear him say that. Her own feeling was that the mood surrounding them had lightened. The trees about them seemed less threatening this morning.

Ginny ate some more in silence, while she looked out over the lake and watched the sky gradually lighten. When the first blinding sliver of sun slipped over the edge of the world, she stood. It was time.

Ginny turned and started towards the cave, hearing Viktor rise and follow. She paused at the entrance, looking for the runic inscription, which would confirm to her that she was in the right place. She found it and translated it to herself.

Enter, mortal, but take heed,

Don't ask for more than what you need.

Those who take but do not give

Must pay most dearly while they live.

If you seek and find the way

Be prepared; you must surely pay.

Turn away before you lose

A piece of self, which I will choose.

"Shouldn't I go in by myself?" Ginny asked, suppressing a shudder and turning to find Viktor directly behind her.

"No, I don't think so."

"But… Look, Viktor, I don't want to jeopardise my chances, and well, she's a goddess of unmarried women. Somehow you don't fit the bill."

"Perhaps not," Viktor replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "But while she might be a goddess of virgins, she isn't exactly chaste herself, is she?"

"No, but… I don't know. I have no idea how this will work."

"I'll stay back, all right? But I'm not letting you go in there by yourself."

"Yes, sir," Ginny shot back, saluting. Viktor scowled at her. "Stay here by the entrance, please?" Viktor didn't look pleased with the prospect, but he nodded once. "Right. Well, let's go then before it's too late."

The sun had almost completely risen now, and Ginny felt their window of opportunity slipping away. She didn't want to have to wait another day. She lit her wand and entered the cave, hurrying along the narrow passage until it opened onto a sort of gallery. There was a ring of white stones in the centre, and Ginny knew what she had to do.

Working quickly, she lit a magical fire in the ring of stones and stepped back. Reaching into her pocket as the flames began to rise she threw the handful of earth into them, followed by a pinch of heartsease, closed her eyes, concentrated, and recited an incantation. When she opened her eyes again nothing seemed to be happening at first, and Ginny swore to herself, wondering if she'd mispronounced something.

But then, as she watched, the flames began to rise higher, changing colours, until they'd reached the roof of the cavern. They burned blindingly bright so that Ginny had to shut her eyes, seeing blood red as the fire became so intense that its light penetrated her closed eyelids. She felt sweat break out over her body in the heat.

Then suddenly the red behind her eyes went out, and the heat subsided. Ginny opened her eyes to find a blonde woman towering over her in the ring of stones. The woman was dressed in rich garments, which showed an alarming amount of cleavage. A necklace of heavy gold links rode the tops of her breasts. Her icy blue eyes glittered down at Ginny in disdain.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" the woman asked coldly.

Ginny's first instinct was to reply as rudely as she'd just been addressed., but she knew better than to arouse the goddess' anger. She didn't want her request to be refused, after all. "I'm Ginny Weasley. Are you Gefinn?"

"Of course I am! Who else would I be? Now what do you want?"

Ginny took a calming breath. She couldn't let the goddess' manner get to her. "I've come to ask for your help. You see, there's a wizard named Harry Potter, and he defeated an evil wizard who wanted to take over our world, but in doing so, he lost all his powers. He gave them up willingly in order to defeat the Dark Lord. I thought maybe you could help me get them back for him."

"What makes you think I'm interested in getting some wizard I've never heard of his powers back? Who is he to you that you would come and bother me with this?"

"He's my love."

Gefinn's laughter echoed in the cavern. "Your love? What do you know about love? If you were able to summon me, it means you're still a virgin. Why haven't you given yourself to him?"

Ginny was taken aback. It was a very personal question.

Gefinn laughed again. "You think I'm nosy, don't you? But you may as well answer. I can see into your heart."

"Then why bother asking me?"

"Don't be insolent! I want to see if you know the answer yourself. Why haven't you given yourself?"

"I… I would have. It's… It's just… My brother is a prat! And my mother…" Gefinn was right. She did have to think about this. The further she went back in their relationship, the more complicated things became. "He wanted to wait in the beginning. He had other things to do first. He was afraid he'd have to leave me. And after that things just didn't work out for us. He went through a bad time when he lost his powers, and then I had to go back to school."

When she'd first found out about the possibility of appealing to Gefinn, Ginny had actually been glad things hadn't worked out. She'd even been ready to forgive Ron for being such a prat. But now she wasn't so sure.

"Yes, I see now," Gefinn said. "You have loved this boy ever since you were a child. He is your heart's true love, and you'd risk anything for him. But are you his? Would he do the same for you?"

"He says he loves me, but he grew up not knowing what love is. Perhaps he still doesn't know. But I know this much. He would lay down his life for me."

"That's a start. You must be equals. At least you are equal in this. You will show him the true meaning of love." Gefinn suddenly raised her head and looked beyond Ginny. "Someone else is here. Who have you brought with you?"

Ginny wanted to curse Viktor for his protectiveness. He was as bad as her brothers, maybe even worse. She wasn't too certain how things were going with Gefinn as it was, and she didn't need him ruining her chances.

"Who's there?" Gefinn cried. "I will allow you to pass. Show yourself!"

Viktor stepped forward, glowering, from the shadows. "My name is Viktor Krum," he said.

"So you're not the person this girl wants help for?"

"No."

"Then why have you come?"

"So she wouldn't be travelling alone."

Ginny definitely didn't like the knowing smile that crossed the goddess' features. "I see," Gefinn said after a long moment, during which she scrutinised Viktor. Then she turned back to Ginny. "What makes you think I want to help you?"

"You're supposed to be a goddess of healing, aren't you? I'm asking you to heal Harry. To restore his powers to him."

"I didn't ask if you thought I _could_ help you. I asked what made you think I _would_."

"Because you're the giver. That's what your name means."

Gefinn fingered her gold necklace. "I never give anything without getting something in return. What are you prepared to give me?"

"I have a special talent. I can make protective talismans."

"Why would I need a protective talisman? I'm immortal!"

Ginny had said on several occasions that she didn't want to go through the pain of producing another gem, but if that's what it took to restore Harry, it would be worth it. She took a deep breath and made her offer. "I can make you a magical gem to go with your necklace."

"What's wrong with my necklace? Do you know what it cost me?" 

Ginny knew that Gefinn, according to legend, had prostituted herself for it, but she wasn't about to say that aloud. "It's a bit plain, isn't it? It would be prettier with a crystal set into it."

Gefinn blandly inspected her fingernails. "I don't need a crystal."

"I can give you my talent. I'd give it up so that I couldn't use it anymore."

Gefinn looked at her through narrowed eyes, and Ginny had the distinct feeling she was being sized up. "All right. I'll consider it. But before I decide, I want to see what you can do. Make me a gem, and then we'll discuss it."

  
And without another word the goddess disappeared.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Yeah, I know… No Harry in this chapter, but I figure if you think about it, it's not too hard to work out where he went. You'll find out next chapter, anyway. I ought to be able to post that one next week if all goes well. Thanks to everyone for their continued support, and to Monique and Jo for the beta.


	21. Chapter 21

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Twenty One

Harry woke up, his heart pounding out of control. He'd had the nightmare again. If he'd hoped they'd go away, he'd been sadly mistaken. If anything they'd become more disturbing. There was more blood every time. And the dream had seemed to follow him. While he'd been staying at The Burrow, the dream had always taken place in Mrs Weasley's scrubbed kitchen, but now that he'd moved on, the dream was set in a new kitchen. 

He sat up and buried his face in his hands. The kitchen from his dream was just on the other side of a thin wall from his bed. He'd arrived at Remus Lupin's house, where Sirius had been staying since October, several days ago. He was no longer sure exactly how many days it had been. He hadn't been keeping what anyone would call regular hours lately.

A knock sounded at the door. "Everything all right in there?" Remus Lupin called. 

Harry swore to himself. He must have cried out in his sleep. Again. "Yeah, just fine," he called back, hoping Remus would go away and leave him alone. 

"Did you have another nightmare?"

"No," Harry lied.

He'd come here looking for an escape from those who would ask him questions he didn't want to answer, but he hadn't quite got what he'd bargained for. In reality, he hadn't even stopped to consider what Remus and Sirius would say when he'd turned up on their doorstep unexpectedly, and so he hadn't been prepared for the questions and concern. "Harry, what brings you here?" "Harry, something's happened, hasn't it?" "Harry, what's the matter?"

He hadn't replied; he hadn't been able to make his mouth work. All he'd been able to do was stand and stare. There'd been a sudden clattering followed by an angry squawk, and Harry had realised after the fact that he'd dropped Hedwig's cage onto the floor. His hands had no longer been able to grip. His legs hadn't been working properly either, for he'd swayed on the spot, and he would have collapsed to the floor if Sirius hadn't caught him.

His mouth had opened then to give birth to a painful sob. His vision had blurred, and after a moment he'd felt Sirius awkwardly trying to pat his shoulder. Somehow Sirius and Remus had helped him into a bedroom, where he'd sunk onto the bed. He remembered them asking him question after question, but he'd refused to answer any of them.

Some time later -- Harry no longer had any notion of how long -- a woman's voice had called out from the fireplace. He'd recognised it as belonging to Mrs Weasley. Remus had gone out to reply. Harry hadn't been able to decipher everything they'd said to each other, but he hadn't missed the note of panic in Mrs Weasley's voice, while Remus' replies had come through as a quiet rumble. Then she'd come through the fire and was asking to speak to him, and he hadn't been able to face her.

He wasn't proud of the things he'd said to her. He'd known at the time she'd only wanted to explain. But he hadn't wanted to hear it. He'd been in pain, and he'd wanted to wallow in it. He'd tried to tune her out, but he hadn't missed the gist of her explanation. She'd read the article in the _Grand Inquisitor_, and her first instinct had been to contact Ginny. She'd gone to Hogwarts, just as Harry had, to find her daughter had never returned to school. But instead of encountering Nearly-Headless Nick, she'd gone to talk to Professor McGonagall, who had apparently told her something, which allayed her fears. Then Mrs Weasley had gone looking for Harry to pass on the explanation, but Harry hadn't been ready to listen.

He'd said some unforgivable things to her. "I don't believe you!" he'd snarled at her. "Ginny lied to me! Before she left, she gave me this very pretty speech about how we both need to be honest with each other, and she was lying to me the entire time! How do I know you're not just like her? How do I know you're not covering for her? She's family after all! I'm not! I'm just some poor orphan you took in out of pity. Well I've had enough of your pity! I don't want to have any more to do with any of you! Just get out and leave me alone!"

It had been the most he'd spoken since he'd discovered that Ginny had left him. Mrs Weasley had gone completely white by the time he was done, and he'd seen the tears shining in her eyes. He hadn't cared that he'd made her cry. He'd been in pain, and he'd wanted to inflict some of it on someone else. But it hadn't helped alleviate any of his own.

"She's all I had left, and now she's gone," he remembered thinking. Perhaps he'd even said it aloud. He didn't know anymore. He sighed to himself. She was probably better off without him. He'd been killing her in his dreams for months now.

"Harry, is everything all right in there?"

Harry sighed in irritation this time. Sirius was at his door now, and Sirius had been acting like an absolute prat since Harry's arrival. His godfather seemed to be under the impression that Harry would to do himself in if given the chance. As a result, Harry could barely make a move without Sirius watching him like a hawk. His godfather had confiscated his Portkey and the key to his Gringott's vault, making Harry a virtual prisoner here. To make matters worse, his godfather had gone out of his way to hide all the sharp objects in the house. As a result, Harry now found himself sporting several days' worth of itchy beard stubble, since he no longer had access to a razor.

"It's fine!" Harry snapped.

"No, it's not," argued Sirius. "Remus says you've been dreaming again."

"Remus can go to hell. You can go with him for all I care. All you ever do is fuss over me! Just go away and leave me alone!"

A loud bang on the door was all that came in reply. Harry smiled to himself grimly, happy he'd thought to lock himself in. It was the only way he could get any peace around here. It was bad enough that Sirius had had to convert the small dining room into makeshift sleeping quarters for Harry. Situated as it was between the living room and kitchen, Harry felt as if he had next to no privacy. He heard everything that went on in the house, whether he wanted to or not.

Sirius banged on the door, harder this time, and the whole wall gave a shudder. One more blow, and the door burst inward. Harry got to his feet, but in the next instant, he found himself bowled over onto the floor, the top of his pyjamas crushed into bunches in Sirius' fists. He only had a second in which to catch a glimpse of his godfather's face, and Sirius looked about as angry as Harry had ever seen him.

"What's going on?"

Remus was back, no doubt alerted by the sound the door had made when Sirius had heaved it in. Remus hauled his friend back by the shoulder.

"Sirius, good lord! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry got to his feet, as Sirius turned on Remus. "I've had enough of this one's attitude," he growled, indicating Harry with a shake of his head. "The boy needs to have some sense knocked into him." Sirius shook off Remus' restraining hand and began to pace. "He locks himself in here all day, and he won't tell us anything that's going on. And that's nothing next to the way he treated Molly. He deserves to be hit for that alone. The poor woman has never shown him anything but love and kindness, and look at how he treats her. It's a wonder her boys haven't turned up here to teach him a lesson by now. And that little trollop…"

"GINNY IS NOT A TROLLOP!" Harry roared, launching himself at his godfather, but a firm hand held him back. He looked up into Remus Lupin's face, noticing for the first time how haggard it was. When was the next full moon? Harry hadn't the slightest clue.

"Oh, so he finally reacts…" Sirius began in a voice laced with sarcasm. Harry wanted to kick himself for letting his godfather's remark get to him. 

"That's enough from the both of you," Remus said with authority. "Sirius, if you'll wait outside, I'd like to have a word with Harry."

Sirius stared for a moment before walking out, muttering curses under his breath. When he was gone, Remus addressed Harry. "Did you have another nightmare this morning?" he asked quietly.

Harry wanted to reply, but something else inside him wanted just as badly to be childish and contrary. He crossed his arms over his chest and didn't respond.

"You can't keep all this bottled up forever, you know. If you talked about it, perhaps it would help."

"How is it going to help?" Harry burst out. "Do you know what I see every night when I manage to fall asleep? That's _if_ I manage to fall asleep… I see Ginny, and she's dead. You want to know how she died? It's because I killed her! You would think, now that she's left me, that that sort of thing would go away, but it hasn't. It just keeps on coming back, and it's worse every time. And what am I supposed to think? That she's better off without me? And tell me, now that I've told you about it, will it go away? I'm not going to hold my breath till it does."

Harry pushed past Remus, out of the room, heading for the bathroom. From the angle of the sun, he could tell it was already afternoon. Time to make a good show of things and get dressed. He turned on the shower, setting the water as hot as he could stand it. It wasn't until he reached for a towel to dry himself off that he realised he'd hadn't brought any clean clothes with him. He'd have to settle for putting his pyjamas back on until he was back in his room.

He opened the bathroom door, releasing a cloud of steam, and immediately heard Hermione's voice drifting in from the living room. He groaned to himself, closed the door until it was open only a crack, and wondered how long he could get away with hiding in the bathroom. Why did everyone insist on prying into his business? Didn't people know he wanted to be by himself? Why did everyone keep bothering him?

He put his ear to the crack and concentrated on what was being said in the living room. "… I just can't believe the things she put in that article," Hermione was shrilling. "Why did I ever believe her when she promised to stop printing lies…"

But a lot of that article hadn't been lies, protested a voice in Harry's head. It had been written in a way that shed events in the worst possible light, but much of it had been the truth. The spell he'd used to defeat Voldemort _had_ been a Dark Arts spell. He _had_ been stripped of his powers. He _had_ had to settle for the job at the Ministry when he'd have preferred to do something else. By all appearances, Ginny _had_ run off with Viktor Krum.

"…I didn't know about any of this until yesterday, or I would have been here sooner," Hermione was going on, talking very fast. "I didn't get back to Hogwarts until late on Sunday, and I went straight to bed. And I hadn't heard a thing at my parents' and with Ron being called away for his work, I haven't had any contact with anyone since Christmas. You can't imagine how shocked I was to go to breakfast yesterday and find that Ginny was missing. Of course I talked to Professor McGonagall about it right away, and she showed me the articles she'd confiscated from some of the students." She paused for breath. "Anyway, none of that is really important. Could I see Harry, please?"

Silence fell in the living room, and Harry imagined Sirius and Remus looking at each other, not quite knowing what to say. Harry willed one of them to say he was indisposed. Anything that would make her go away. Whatever Hermione had to say to him, whatever sympathy she was about to offer, he didn't want to hear it.

"I believe Harry's in the shower just now," came Sirius' voice. It was louder than necessary.

"That's odd," said Hermione. "It's the middle of the afternoon."

"He just got up," Sirius informed her. Harry ground his teeth together.

"Oh. Well, perhaps one of you could get him to hurry. I don't have a lot of time. I had to make arrangements to come here, and I don't want to take any longer than necessary."

"Don't bother," said Harry shortly, coming out of hiding. "Whatever it is you have to tell me, I don't really give a damn."

"But Harry, it's about Ginny…" Hermione began, her eyes widening as she took in his appearance. He knew he didn't look very good, with his hair wild and dripping from the shower, his wrinkled and faded pyjamas, and his scruffy beard.

"I said, I don't give a damn," he repeated, as he crossed to the door to his makeshift bedroom. "You shouldn't have bothered to come." 

Hermione stood up and took a step towards him. She did not look pleased. "Harry, if you'd let me explain…"

Harry shut the door in her face. It struck him that someone must have repaired it while he was in the shower. It had to have been Remus. She opened it almost immediately. "Don't you _ever_ shut the door on me like that…"

"Do you _mind_, Hermione? I'd like to get dressed." To prove his point, he began to unbutton his pyjama top, staring straight at her the whole time. He saw her glance dart to his chest for a moment, and he realised she'd seen he was still wearing his talisman. If he had to, he'd strip naked in front of her. He didn't care if he embarrassed her. He just wanted her gone.

"It's about time you got dressed, isn't it?" she replied sounding annoyed. "You realise it's half two already? I'll be here when you're finished." She shut the door, and he heard her remark quite loudly, "He looks as bad as he did last summer." 

He knew he was meant to hear that, but it just made him angrier. Didn't anyone have anything better to do than discuss him? This was the reason he hadn't wanted it generally known that he'd given up his powers. He moved to bolt the door, and discovered that the lock hadn't been repaired along with the door; it had been removed entirely. Swearing to himself, he started getting dressed, but he still couldn't tune out the conversation in the living room.

"At least he's showering now," Sirius commented. "That's an improvement over how he was when he first got here."

"He wasn't showering?" asked Remus.

"No, you weren't here after the first day. While you were off transforming over New Year's, he didn't come out of that room at all."

"What made him come out?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know," replied Sirius. "I told him he was acting like a baby, but I don't see how that changed anything. He's still acting like a baby, as far as I'm concerned."

"What can he possibly be doing in there all day?"

"Any time I've gone in there, he's not doing much of anything," said Remus.

"I've seen him doing something on parchment," put in Sirius. "But he never lets me see what it is. There was a lot of crumpled parchment in his waste bin the other day, and I had a look, and he'd been drawing pictures of brooms."

Harry clenched his fists. Sirius had no right to go through his rubbish. None of those brooms had been right, in any case. That was it. They could just stew in their juices for the rest of the day as far as he was concerned. He wasn't coming out.

As if Hermione had read his thoughts, she called in to him, "Aren't you finished dressing yet?"

"No!" Harry called back obstinately.

"I don't care," she replied. "You've had more than enough time to get dressed, and I have to get back to school. I'm coming in there."

She opened the door and came in, squinting into the dim room. He hadn't bothered to open the blinds since he'd moved in. "You know, if you'd let in some light, things would be a lot more cheerful…"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and didn't reply.

"Harry," Hermione began again, "I have something to confess to you. I think I know why Ginny went to Durmstrang."

"I don't want to hear it."

"That's just too bad, because you're going to hear it whether you want to or not. I think she went to look for a way to cure you."

"Cure me? _Cure me?_ Is that what you think? That I've got some sort of illness, and you just have to find the cure for me? Am I one of your interesting cases now? Have you read about any other interesting cases like mine?"

"Harry, no, you've got to listen…"  


"I DON'T WANT TO LISTEN! I WANT YOU TO GET OUT, AND LEAVE ME ALONE! I WANT ALL OF YOU TO LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! WHY DOESN'T ANYONE UNDERSTAND THAT?"

Hermione had pressed her mouth into a fine line. "Sirius is wrong about you," she said in a dangerously quiet voice. "You're not acting like a baby. Any baby I've ever seen is _immeasurably_ better behaved than you are."

"Just get out," Harry grated at her.

She acquiesced. The door closed behind her, but she didn't leave just yet.

"Are you all right?" Remus' concerned voice came through the closed door.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine," Hermione replied icily.

"No, you're not." Sirius' voice was a menacing growl.

"I'll be fine," Hermione insisted. "And I really do need to get back, but someone has to hear this. Ginny and I have been doing research all autumn. We've been trying to find a means to restore Harry's powers to him. We kept it a secret because we didn't want to get anyone's hopes up unnecessarily."

"That was well done," commented Remus. "I can't imagine you came up with anything."

"No, we didn't. Ginny even translated some ancient texts, and we came up with nothing. I corresponded with Viktor Krum at Durmstrang, asking him if he knew of anything. I never let on why I wanted to know. But I think that Ginny must have contacted Viktor herself at some point, and he had to have told her of something. That's the only thing I can imagine would make her run off like this without telling anyone."

"Have you told any of this to Molly Weasley?" Remus asked. "She's been worried sick about her daughter."

"Yes, I went to see Mrs Weasley before I came here. That's how I knew I could find Harry here. I told her everything."

"That's good," remarked Sirius. "The news ought to do her some good in all this. You don't even want to know how much Harry upset her last week. I could kill him for what he said to her."

Harry couldn't bear to listen anymore. He brushed aside what he'd overheard about Ginny. He didn't want to believe any of that. It might give him reason to hope. He didn't want hope at the moment. He wanted pain. Thinking about how horrible he'd been to Mrs Weasley afforded him that pain, especially when he recalled the way she'd rocked him on Halloween. He hated himself for the words he'd said, and he concentrated on that feeling, allowing it to sink in and permeate his being.

*

Ginny stared down at the jewel in her hand. She'd never seen one like this before. The other times she'd attempted this, the stone had always been white. This one was deep blue. She closed her fingers over it again, allowing its inner light to well through the flesh of her hand. That was something else that had never happened before. While her previous gems would reflect light, they'd never possessed any inherent glow of their own.

She slumped against the side of the cave wall in exhaustion. But it could be worse. At least she was finished now. She didn't have to go through the arduous process of imbuing the gem with protective magic. Creating the stone had been bad enough. 

From where she stood just inside the entrance to the cave, she could see that it was dark again. She thought she'd been at this for three days -- it was as much as she could remember clearly at any rate. 

Viktor was probably asleep in the tent. At least she hoped so. She could take the gem to Gefinn now and get this over with. Viktor wouldn't be happy with her for going to the goddess on her own, but that would be his problem. Over the past days, he'd kept after her to take breaks, no matter how many times she told him stopping at the wrong time might jeopardise the whole process. And he seemed to have developed a knack for interrupting her at the wrong time. It had been a relief earlier today when he'd informed her that their food was running out and he'd have to go into the nearest town to buy more. She'd had several hours to herself then, and she'd been able to make real progress.

"Have you got something for me?"

Ginny jumped at the sound of the goddess' voice echoing up the passage. "I haven't summoned you yet," she said steeling herself and turning. A light was emanating from deeper within the cave.

Gefinn laughed harshly. "You? Summon me? You no longer summon me. I summon you, and I do so. Now."

Ginny tried to remain where she was, but it was as if her feet had suddenly developed a will other than her own. She advanced down the passage until she'd reached the circle of stones, where Gefinn stood waiting for her.

"There, that's much better," the goddess said. "Now we can have a little talk. Show me what you've made."

Ginny silently held out her hand, opening it in offering. There was no point in holding this back, at any rate. She'd made it for Gefinn, after all.

The goddess took the stone from her, inspecting it carefully. "Oh, very pretty. And blue's my favourite colour. How did you know?"

"I didn't… I didn't even know I could make coloured stones. All the others I've made have been white."

Gefinn held the gem up to her necklace, considering. "And you say if you give me this talent, I'll be able to do this myself?"

"I don't know. I've never given anything like this up before. I don't know if that would make you a Jewel-wright in my place or not."

"But you'd no longer be one, and that's the point, isn't it?" Gefinn looked at her searchingly. "Yes, I see. That is the point. No, I'm afraid this isn't an acceptable trade."

"_What?_"

"You heard me, girl. This isn't acceptable. You're offering me a talent you don't really want in the first place. Where's the value in that?"

"It may not be valuable to me, but it could be valuable to you. You could create riches for yourself."

"Perhaps, but you don't really know, do you? As if I would stoop to labouring for jewels, anyway…"

"If I recall my history you haven't been above a little manual labour in the past. Isn't that how this island got here in the first place? Because you ploughed it out for yourself?" Gefinn had cheated a Swedish king in the process, Ginny realised suddenly. Just as the goddess was trying to cheat Ginny now, it seemed. "And I won't even go into what you had to do to get that necklace."  


"SILENCE! I won't stand for this!" Gefinn's enormous chest was heaving in her rage. "You would be wise, girl," she began again menacingly, "to remember which one of us holds the upper hand here. I could well refuse you and send you off, but I am the giver, and I will give what you ask. But we do so on _my _terms. The gift of your talent is unacceptable to me. There is, however, something else."

"What's that?" Ginny asked defiantly, while inwardly she dreaded what Gefinn might ask for. It was for Harry, she reminded herself. Whatever Gefinn demanded, it would be worth it for Harry.

"Your virginity. You will give it to your protector." Gefinn nodded towards the entrance to the cave, and Ginny knew to whom Gefinn was referring. She felt as if the ground had dropped out from under her feet.

"No… I can't… I can't do that…"

"Can't you? Think about it. You withhold one gift from your love, but you bestow another on him. Which is more valuable to him?"

Ginny's mind whirled, as she tried to get her brain to function properly and reason it out. What would Harry value more? She couldn't work it out. She felt strangely addled.

"He's in love with you. Did you know that?" The goddess' contemptuous voice broke in on her confusion.

"Who is?"

"The wizard you brought with you."

"NO! That's a lie! He can't be. I haven't done anything to encourage him."

"I'm not lying to you. He is. I've seen it in him. If you offer yourself to him, he won't refuse you."

"It doesn't matter, because I won't do it. Prostitution may be good enough for you, but I won't sell myself."

Ginny knew she'd gone too far this time, but she no longer cared. If this was what Gefinn asked of her, she wasn't going to pay the price. It was too high. Harry would never believe her if she went through with this and tried to explain after the fact. She'd just have to accept it now. There was no help for him here.

She turned to go, but Gefinn raised a hand. Ginny cowered in spite of herself, sure the goddess was going to strike her down for her insult. But then she straightened. Let her do her worst. It didn't matter anymore. 

"Where are you going?" Gefinn's voice was deceptively calm.

"I'm leaving. I don't accept your terms."

"You're wise enough to bargain, at least, even if you don't have enough judgement not to insult your betters. I'll give you a second choice. You may give me all the memories you have of your love. You will no longer remember who he is or that he ever loved you."

"Then how am I going to find him to restore his powers to him?"

"I will set a spell in your head. When you perform it on him, you will lose your memories then."

"What spell? What will it do?"

"It will be an incantation. When you pronounce it, everything will be as it was before. You and your love will be equals once more."

Ginny was about to open her mouth to protest some more, but Gefinn held up a hand to silence her. "Think about it. Don't give me your decision yet. Come back at dawn and tell me what you've decided to do."

Gefinn didn't give Ginny a chance to reply. She disappeared once again, taking the jewel Ginny had made along with her. 

Ginny made her way out of the cave on shaky legs, tears fighting their way to the surface. Could she do it? Could she give up her memories of Harry? On the surface, it didn't seem to be any better of a choice than the first offer, but as she thought about it, she realised it might work. Harry would still remember her, after all. He'd still love her. And she could fall in love with him again.

As she emerged from the cave, she was faced with another problem. She'd hoped that, given the late hour, Viktor would be asleep. She didn't want to face him, now that she knew, and she was sure he'd sense the change in her. She couldn't lie to him either, but she didn't want to hurt him. While she could never return his feelings, he'd still been a friend to her, going beyond anything she could have expected of him in this venture. 

But as she approached the tent, she could see him standing there, waiting. The sadness that had been threatening to overwhelm her was replaced by annoyance. It was easier that way. For now.

"Where have you been all this time?" he asked. His protectiveness was coming out again, just as it had earlier when he'd insisted on making her an emergency Portkey back to Durmstrang before leaving her to go for food. Ginny wanted to kick herself for not seeing it sooner. She'd thought it was simply his nature, but now it hit her that his concern had gone beyond friendship. It was becoming smothering. "Did you go back to Gefinn?"

"Yes," she replied shortly, heading straight for the tent.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" He reached for her arm, stopping her in her tracks. When he didn't drop his hand immediately, Ginny stared pointedly down at it. The hand fell away, and as she looked back up, she thought his face had coloured slightly. The moon was high in the sky and just a week past full, affording her enough light to detect this.

"I couldn't. I finished the gem, and she was just there… Listen, can we talk about this in the morning? I'm tired from expending all that energy. I need some rest."

"I want to know what she said to you. You're upset."

"We'll talk in the tent. I need to lie down." She made another move towards the tent, and again he put out a hand to stop her.

"What are you trying to hide from me? What did she say to you?"

Ginny sighed impatiently. "She said she didn't want my talent. It wasn't important enough to me, so it wasn't an acceptable sacrifice to her. She made me another offer…" She stopped, praying he wouldn't detect that there had actually been two offers. There wasn't any way she was going to tell him about the first one.

"What was it?" Viktor asked, and the distrust was evident in his tone.

"She wants me to give up my memories of Harry." 

His hand was still on her arm, and she felt his fingers tighten. "Are you going to do it?"

"What choice have I got?" she cried.

Viktor opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something. In the dim moonlight, Ginny could see he was fighting to control his emotions. She wished Gefinn had never told her about Viktor's feelings for her. He closed his mouth and took a deep breath before trying again. "You can go back home and finish school."

"But then all of this will have been for nothing, and Harry will never have his powers restored to him."

"Perhaps that's what was meant to be. Maybe it's time to accept there's nothing to be done for him."

"But there _is_!" She was beginning to sound desperate. "There _is_ something I can do about it, and if I don't, I won't be able to live with myself. They're just a few memories. He'll still have his. We can make new ones…" 

She felt a tear slip out of the corner of her eye, and she brought up a hand to brush it away, at the same time shaking herself loose from Viktor's grip. Viktor was staring down at her, and even if he was no longer touching her, she could sense the tension in him. He was holding himself in check.

"I can't let you do this…"

"You haven't got a say in this," she said, glaring. "This is my choice to make. And I've made it. I'm going back to her in the morning and accepting her offer. If you want to help me, you can make me a Portkey that will take me to Diagon Alley."

She went into the tent, leaving him standing there. She knew what she had to do now. She'd write down as many memories as she could before dawn. She'd write it all down in a long letter to Harry. She'd make him understand. Make him see she had no choice. And at the same time she'd have something she could read back over in the future, and just maybe this letter would trigger her mind, preventing her from forgetting altogether.

She threw herself onto her sleeping bag. By all rights she ought to be too exhausted for this, but suddenly she was wide awake. Lighting her wand, she began to dig through her bag until she pulled out a fresh roll of parchment she'd picked up at Durmstrang along with a quill and a bottle of ink. Flattening the parchment and doing the best she could under the circumstances, she began to write.

__

My dearest Harry…

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: With any luck I can have another chapter out next week. Thanks to everyone for continuing to review. Thanks to Marian for all her help, and thanks to Jo and Ami for the beta.


	22. Chapter 22

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Twenty Two

The sky was gradually lightening by the time Ginny put down her quill. There wouldn't be any time for sleep now, but it didn't matter. She would sleep when this was all over. And it would be over soon. She could hold out until then.

Viktor hadn't returned to the tent since she'd sent him off to make her a Portkey. It was just as well in a way, because his presence would have weighed on her mind at a time when she wanted to concentrate on her feelings for Harry. Still, if he'd stayed out all night… She hoped he was all right. Even if he had fallen in love with her as Gefinn had said, he hadn't acted on those feelings. His actions towards her had been those of a good friend or even a concerned family member. He'd never done anything to indicate that he wanted to take her away from Harry.

She folded up the parchment and wrote Harry's name on the outside of it. Then she stuck her head out of the tent. "Viktor?" she called, uncertain. "Are you there?"

All was quiet for a moment, making Ginny begin to feel a bit worried. But no, she told herself firmly. He wouldn't have left her alone here. She stood and stepped away from the tent, looking around her. Then she heard the sound of footsteps crunching over the frosty ground.

"Yes, I'm here," he said once he'd entered her field of vision. His face was haggard as if he hadn't slept all night, but his expression was inscrutable. He held out his closed fist to her. 

"What's this?"

"Your Portkey back to Diagon Alley."

He opened his fist to reveal a sprig of holly leaves with a few red berries nestled among them. The sharp edges of the leaves had cut into his fingers, and as Ginny stared at his offering, a drop of blood trickled along a fingertip and dropped onto the ground. She took it from him gingerly and put it in her pocket.

"You have to activate it with your wand," Viktor added. He sounded resigned. "It'll take you back directly as soon as you do."

"Thank you, Viktor." She turned towards the cave.

"Are you going now?"

"Yes, I am."

He didn't say another word as she walked away from him. She strode towards the crack in the rock, trying to put Viktor out of her mind. She had to concentrate on Harry now. She was going to have help for him before the day was out. The light she'd seen the night before was glowing in the passage, beckoning her onwards. She was expected. 

Gefinn was waiting for her in her circle of stones. "You have decided," she said to Ginny as she entered the chamber.

"I have."

"And you willingly choose to give up your memories in exchange for the spell."

"I do."

"Excellent." Gefinn smiled broadly. "Approach."

Ginny obeyed, and the goddess stretched her hands out over Ginny's head, bringing them down to settle on Ginny's brow. Gefinn opened her mouth to speak.

"Wait!"

Ginny whirled around. "Viktor, what are you doing here?" she asked, irritated that he should interrupt them.

"I've come to stop you."  


"Stop me? It's not your place to stop me! I've chosen to do this…"

"Just hear me out, Ginny. You shouldn't have to give up your memories."

"I haven't _got_ any other choice," Ginny replied enunciating each word carefully. "I told you that last night."

"You may have another choice. Doesn't she?"

Ginny's heart began to pound as Viktor addressed Gefinn, who was watching Viktor with keen interest. How could he have known about the other option? She wanted to shout out her objections, but her mouth seemed to have quit working.

"If you have another suggestion, I'm willing to listen," said Gefinn. "What would you offer me in place of this girl's memories?"

"She offered you her talent yesterday, and you refused it."

"I did. She isn't going to miss it when it's gone. It's of little value to her."

"I've got a talent, as well. I can look into people's souls and see what sort of person they are. I offer it to you in place of Ginny's memories."

"Why would you give up something like this for her?"

Ginny knew the answer to that question now, and she knew Gefinn also had to know. The goddess was only trying to get Viktor to say it out loud. Her purpose was now clear. She wanted to humiliate him. 

But Viktor must have been onto her intentions. He raised his head slightly and looked her in the eye. "Because I know the person she wants to do this for, and I know that there is no one else more worthy of getting his powers back than Harry Potter."

"Oh, now isn't that admirable of you," crowed Gefinn. "How noble. Now tell me the real reason."

"You already know the answer to that, because I can see enough of you to know that you don't really need my gift. You already possess it. But you want it. You want it because I'm mortal, and you don't think a mere mortal should possess a talent such as this. You think it should be reserved for the gods. Now if you need me to voice my reasons aloud, perhaps you don't need my talent after all."

Gefinn's eyes glittered menacingly for a moment, but the outrage Ginny expected did not materialise. "I will take your gift," she said calmly. "In exchange for the spell this girl wants, I will accept it. And for your insolence to me, I will take her gift as well."

Without warning, she placed her hands on Ginny's head. It felt as if cold iron bands were crushing her head, and the pain caused stars to swim before her eyes. Her knees went weak, but she was obliged to remain standing, as the goddess maintained her grip on Ginny's head. She cried out as she felt some fundamental part of her detach itself and flow out through her temples where Gefinn had placed her hands.

It took a while for the pain to subside, but even then the goddess did not release Ginny. Blackness threatened to overwhelm her, and she swayed on the spot, still held up by the goddess' hands on her head. She fought to remain conscious. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind the goddess' voice echoed in some unfamiliar language. It was the spell. It was being placed in her brain. But along with it came the certain knowledge that there would be a time limit. She would have until the sun set to perform this spell on Harry, or their gifts would be forever forfeit.

Gefinn released her at last, and Ginny collapsed onto the floor, no longer able to support herself. She thought she heard Viktor calling out to her, but she didn't have the strength to react. She lay there panting, a dull ache still throbbing in her temples, while she was dimly aware of the goddess moving towards Viktor.

All was silent for a long moment, and then Gefinn's voice rang through the chamber. "It is done." And then all went quiet again.

Ginny lay on the ground unable to move, but knowing at the same time that she had to. She had until sundown to get to Harry and perform the spell. At last she stirred. She heard a rustling. Viktor was crawling over to her.

"Are you all right?" he whispered to her.

She swallowed. "I think so."

More rustling told her he was getting to his feet. The spots were still swimming in front of her eyes, and she couldn't see what was happening. "Can you get up?" he asked.

"I have to. I have to get to Harry."

"Come on."

She felt his hand on her shoulder, creeping underneath her back, trying to lift her. She struggled to her feet. "I'll walk," she insisted. 

But walking was an ordeal. In the end, Viktor had to help her out into the blazing sunlight. The spots lifted from her eyes and she could see. The sun was much higher than she expected. Glancing at her watch in panic, she saw that they'd been in the cave for two hours.

"Come lie down," Viktor was saying. "You need to rest. We both do." 

He tugged on her hand trying to steer her in the direction of the tent. She gathered her last remaining strength and wrenched her hand free. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her wand and the sprig of holly. Before Viktor could stop her, she'd activated it, and she felt the jerk behind her navel, which sent her hurtling through space.

She landed in a heap in the middle of the street. Looking around her, bleary-eyed, she saw that by some stroke of luck she'd ended up in front of the Ministry of Magic. It was a struggle to get to her feet, and she was glad that there didn't seem to be a lot of people about. Glancing at her watch, it seemed odd that the street was so empty. It was about nine in the morning. Diagon Alley ought to be full of witches and wizards running errands at this time of day. Unless it was Sunday. 

She staggered over to the Ministry steps, where she leaned against the railing while she tried to reckon what day it was, but it was impossible. She knew she'd left Scotland on the twenty-seventh of December, and that she'd left Durmstrang on the third of January, but after that she'd lost track of the days. The first meeting with Gefinn had to have been on the third, but then she'd made the gem and she had no clear recollection of how many days that had taken her. She was just going to have to cross her fingers and hope Harry was working today or see if there was anyone at the Ministry who could help her. Failing that, she was facing a hike up to the Leaky Cauldron at the other end of Diagon Alley so she could Floo home. That was going to require more energy than she thought she possessed at the moment.

She took a deep breath and began to climb the steps to the Ministry. Once inside she had to make her way through the passages until she came to Harry's office. She was glad she'd already found her way here once, as the place seemed rather empty. Her heart sank. It must be Sunday.

Ginny twisted the handle of the door, half-expecting it to be locked, but it turned. She let out a breath. Perhaps things were going to work out her way after all. The room was empty, except for Mrs Mutt, who was sitting at her desk, her grey head bent over a file. The older woman looked up, having heard Ginny come in, and her expression hardened.

"You're going to have to come back during regular office hours," Mrs Mutt said to Ginny, as if she'd never seen her before. "Someone will be here to take care of you then."

"Regular office hours?"

"Yes. It's only eight in the morning. There are no appointments until nine at the earliest."

Eight? Her watch was still on European time, Ginny realised. But did that mean she had until sunset here, or sunset in Denmark to perform the spell? She had no idea, but decided not to take any chances. She did a rapid calculation in her head. She had about seven hours to track down Harry. If he was coming in to work later, it would be easy enough for her to wait.  
  
Mrs Mutt was staring at her with distaste. "Would it be all right if I waited?" Ginny asked, wondering what she could have done to deserve this reception.

"Who have you got an appointment with?" the older woman asked sharply.

"Nobody. I just thought I could see Harry before he started work. Please, it's very important."

Mrs Mutt got up and came over to the counter. Her eyes were glittering with fury. "Why? Wasn't it enough that you ran off and left him? Wasn't it bad enough that you broke the poor boy's heart? What, did you come back to throw some salt on the wounds?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Have you been in bed with that Bulgarian all this time that you don't even know what's happened? Been shagged so much your brain is addled? I can't even imagine where you've been. You look as if you've been sleeping in the gutter for days. Then maybe your great Quidditch star got tired of you sooner than you expected and threw you out in the street."

Ginny could only stare in disbelief. "Where's Harry?" she tried again.

"I don't have the slightest idea. He hasn't been back to work since he found out what sort of harlot you really are. So unless you've got an appointment with one of the solicitors here, you'd best be on your way. Now get out."

Ginny remained rooted to the spot, while her brain tried to process what had happened in her absence. It was like some sort of surreal nightmare. Mrs Mutt came through the swinging gate in the partition. She took Ginny firmly by the arm, her face screwing up as if she was touching something foul. Her grip was surprisingly strong for such a frail-looking woman.

"I said, get out."

She was steering Ginny imperiously towards the door, and Ginny was too shocked to do anything but allow herself to be escorted out. It wasn't long before she found herself alone in the corridor. She slumped against the wall, blinking back tears. 

What had just happened in there? Mrs Mutt obviously knew that she'd been off with Viktor Krum somehow, but why did the older woman have the impression that Ginny had run off with him? And she'd said Harry hadn't been in to work since he'd found out. But when had that been? How long had he been gone? And how could he possibly have misinterpreted her letter to think that she'd left him for Viktor?

Bile rose in her throat, but she fought it back down. Something had gone horribly wrong -- that much was clear -- but the only way to fix it would be to track down Harry and explain. Explain and restore his powers. But she didn't know where he was. Suddenly seven hours didn't seem like much time at all. 

The Burrow. She had to get there as soon as possible. If Harry hadn't been going in to work, then he must be at home. It was too early in the morning for her father to be in his office yet. She'd have no choice but to go to the opposite end of Diagon Alley and Floo from the Leaky Cauldron.

She lurched forward through corridors, hurrying along as best she could. A few people turned to stare at her dirty and dishevelled appearance, causing Ginny to quicken her pace. Before she left the building, she paused to pull the hood of her cloak over her head. Her hair stood out far too much, and after the reception she'd received from Mrs Mutt, she didn't want anyone else to recognise her.

Once out in the street, she put her head down and began to walk fast, but fatigue and lack of food had made her legs go rubbery, and she tripped over a cobblestone, running headlong into a middle-aged wizard. "Watch where you're going!" he snapped at her.

"Sorry," she whispered.

As he strode away, she heard him muttering something about what a disgrace the younger generation was under his breath. Ginny continued along the street, weaving slightly on tired legs, and overhearing several comments on young drunks in passing. They didn't make her any more confident about how she'd be received at the Leaky Cauldron.

She entered the courtyard cautiously. At this early hour there shouldn't be many patrons in the pub, at least. Peeking through the door into the pub, she saw Tom was busy taking upended chairs off of the tables, as he prepared for the day's business. She waited until he'd left the room again before padding quickly over to the fireplace and reaching for the jar, which stood on the mantle. It contained Floo powder, as she'd hoped. Fighting back a wave of guilt at taking a pinch of Tom's power, she threw it into the grate, stepped into the flames, and cried, "The Burrow!"

A few moments later, she landed in a heap in the kitchen. She barely had time to register her mother's presence, when the older woman let out a piercing cry. "Ginny!"

Ginny had almost made it to her feet when her mother caught her up in a tight hug. "Oh my goodness!" her mother wailed. "Ginny, where have you been? I've been so worried. You're filthy. What happened to your cloak? Did he hurt you? If he thinks he can get away with this… WHY DIDN'T YOU OWL AND LET US KNOW WHERE YOU WERE?"

Her mother had pulled back from her and was looking Ginny up and down with snapping eyes. "Owl… I…" 

"I can't believe how inconsiderate," her mother went on as if Ginny hadn't even spoken. "How could you worry your father and me like that? Are you drunk? What have you been doing to get into such a state? I've never, in all my born years…"

"MUM! Shut up! I need to see Harry. Now. Where is he?"

Ginny was swaying in place and couldn't go on. Her mother gripped her around the waist and helped her to a seat at the kitchen table. "What has that boy put you through?" she asked. Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but her mother shook her head. "Not another word out of you until you've had something to eat."

"But Mum…" she protested.

"No buts. You're practically falling over. First you eat, then you're going to tell me where you've been." Her mother went over to the cooker, where the remains of a pot of porridge still sat, keeping warm. In no time a bowl full had been placed in front of her. Ginny began to eat mechanically.

"Now eat," said her mother, when she'd returned with a mug full of hot chocolate, which she placed in front of her daughter. "And then you can tell me what's going on. I want to know what possessed you to go off like that with no word. If I hadn't gone to Hogwarts…"

"Word?" Ginny cut across her mother. "Mum, I sent you an owl. Didn't Harry get my owl? Where is he? Upstairs?"

"Harry's not here."

Ginny was on her feet in an instant. "Where is he then? I've got to get to him. I've got…" She'd stood up too quickly. Her head was swimming. Without warning everything went black. 

The next thing Ginny knew she was lying on the sofa in the living room, a damp cloth draped over her forehead. She closed her eyes and tried to collect her scattered thoughts. There was something she needed to do. Something important. Harry. That was it. She had to get to Harry. She moved to sit up, but the room pitched strangely, and she thought it might be a good idea to wait before trying to stand.

"You're not going anywhere for a good, long time," her mother's voice came from the general direction of the kitchen. Turning, Ginny saw her standing in the doorway holding a large wooden spoon. There was a strong fishy odour in the house now.

"What time is it?" Ginny asked.

  
"Almost eleven."  


"_What?_" To hell with fainting; she had to get out of here.

"Just stay where you are. Do you want to pass out again?"

"You don't understand, Mum. I've _got_ to get to Harry now!"

Her mother was shaking her head sadly. "Harry's not going anywhere. At least I don't think he is. You can see him tomorrow. I don't know what you've been through but you need rest. Don't try to leave."

Ginny wasn't listening. She got to her feet, fumbling in her pocket for her wand. If she had to, she'd hex her mother to get out of here. Her mother must have read her thoughts. "I've already taken your wand, and I've closed off the Floo. You're not going anywhere until you're stronger."

Ginny now knew what the source of the smell was. It was her mother's special restorative draught. She shuddered.

"But I've got a time limit to do this! I can't explain now! I've got to get to him!"

She wavered where she stood, her vision beginning to blacken once again. Ginny's mother came made her sit down on the sofa again, taking a place beside her. "You're not going anywhere until you've explained some things. First, where did you go and why?"

Ginny proceeded to give her mother a rapid account of how she and Hermione had spent the previous autumn trying in vain to find a way to restore Harry's powers. She went on to mention they'd contacted Viktor, with whom she'd corresponded, until he mentioned a possibility. She told of her trip to Durmstrang of how they'd gone on to Denmark, where they'd summoned Gefinn, and obtained a cure. 

"But she said I had till sundown to perform the spell, and I have to get to Harry," she finished. 

"You've got hours before sunset."

"Not sunset here. Sunset in Denmark. Or at least I think so. I don't know anymore. But this is too important to take chances with." She paused for breath. "I went in to the Ministry and he wasn't there. The woman I talked to told me he hadn't been in for a while. Where is he if he's not here and he hasn't been in to work?"

Her mother took a deep breath. "There's something I have to tell you, and it's not good," she said quietly. "A few days after you left, there was a terrible article in some rag. It was written by Rita Skeeter. It told everyone how Harry lost his powers using a Dark Arts spell to defeat You-Know-Who."

Ginny's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Oh no…"

"That's not all. There was an incriminating picture of you and Viktor Krum in some pub, and it said in the article that you'd left Harry. Viktor, he didn't… I mean the two of you haven't…"

Ginny felt as if she'd been hit in the stomach with a Bludger, but she understood Mrs Mutt's reaction to her now. "MUM! NO, never! He was a perfect gentleman the entire time! How could you even ask such a thing?"  


"I just had to make sure. You didn't see the picture…"

"Do you have it?"

"No, it's long gone. Thrown out in the rubbish as it should be. It wasn't even fit to line Errol's cage." Her mother paused for a moment. "You need to know that I never believed it of you either. I heard what you said to Harry. It would have been the evening before you left. You were sitting in here with him. I looked into the kitchen and saw you. I think Harry had fallen asleep against your shoulder, and I heard what you said to him as he slept. I know how much you love him and how much he loves you. I could see that in the picture you gave him. I knew you couldn't have run off with someone else. Not willingly, at any rate.

"When the article came out, I didn't want to believe that picture could even be true. I went up to Hogwarts to see for myself that you were there, but you weren't. I talked to Professor McGonagall, and she told me you'd never come back, that you were supposed to be at home for the rest of the holidays. I panicked then, but we were in her office, and a very strange thing happened. Professor Dumbledore's portrait spoke to us. It told us you'd gone to try to help Harry and that we should trust you."

"Professor Dumbledore helped me. When I'd got behind in my work, he talked to me, and he helped me plan this. He knew where I was going. But what about Harry? Why did he leave?"

"It was the article. It didn't portray you and Viktor in a very flattering light. He thinks you've left him. That you…"

"That I what?"

"That you don't love him. That you only stayed out of pity. That you lied to him. I won't hide it from you. He's not doing well at all right now. Sirius practically has him under house arrest."

"He's with Sirius?"

"Yes."

That much was a relief. "You said you went to Hogwarts. You talked to Dumbledore. Did you tell Harry that?"

"I tried to tell him." Ginny's mother wiped at the corners of her eyes. "He didn't want to hear what I had to say. Perhaps it was too soon. It was the day the article came out. I haven't spoken to him since. Remus and Sirius have been giving me news, but he's not speaking to them, either."

Ginny got to her feet. "I've got to get to him…"

"You're not going anywhere, young lady."

"Haven't you heard a word I've said? I don't have much time."

"You have plenty of time. You still have several hours. I'll let you go, but not before you've washed and changed, and the restorative isn't ready yet. You're not leaving this house until you take some."

Ginny pulled a face. She'd had to take the noxious mess on several occasions when she was younger. "Urgh."

"I suppose you'd rather pass out again in the middle of the Floo network."

"I'm just as likely to throw it all back up."

"I'll charm it to stay down. Now go get washed. Look at you. Look at your beautiful cloak. When is the last time you had a bath?"

Ginny couldn't really answer that question. She hadn't been anywhere she could wash properly since she'd left Durmstrang. It hadn't exactly been the right time of year to bathe in the lake. 

"Come on," her mother went on. "I'll help you up the stairs. Did you leave any clothes in your room?"

"Only my summer things." Ginny's mother was helping her up. Normally she would have protested that she could make it on her own, but she felt strangely weak.

"All right. I'll find you something to wear and charm it to stay warm. And I think I can dig up one of Percy's old jumpers. That should keep you warm. Come on, up we go."

They made their way up to the bathroom off the first landing. Ginny's mother took her cloak from her, clucking over its state. Ginny had to sigh. It was hard to tell what colour it was. The silvery fur around the collar was now a dull grey.

It was a great relief to peel off the clothes she'd been wearing for days and leave them in a grimy heap on the floor. The hot water felt wonderful steaming over her tired bones. She simply stood for a long while, leaning against the wall for support, letting the spray do its job, before finally reaching for the shampoo.

At length, she got out and wrapped herself in a towel. She left her clothes where they were, suspecting her mother wouldn't even try to salvage them. Once in her room, she rummaged under her bed for a box of old clothes that was stored there. Perhaps she'd find something that still fit her. She pulled on the first pair of jeans she came to and was surprised to find she could pull them over her hips. Looking down, she could see several inches of ankle protruding from the bottom. Pulling a T-shirt over her head, she turned to find her mother had come back, a light blue sweater in her hand.

The older woman's jaw dropped. "Ginny, how old are those trousers?"

Ginny shrugged. "A few years, I guess. Why?"

"My goodness, when is the last time you had a decent meal? Look at you. You've wasted away to nothing!"

"I've been eating," Ginny said defensively.

"How can you say that? You haven't worn those trousers since you were thirteen! When you get back downstairs, you're going to have a good lunch. And then you're going to have a double dose of restorative potion!" She stalked off, and Ginny could hear her muttering something about grown children not even having enough sense to eat regular meals.

The hands on Ginny's watch were slowly creeping down towards half past one by the time she'd swallowed two full measures of her mother's vile concoction. Her stomach heaved in protest. It was already full of hearty vegetable soup and home-made bread that her mother had insisted she eat. 

Now Ginny only had to find room for a glass of pumpkin juice. She wasn't particularly thirsty for it, but she needed something to get the fishy taste of the potion out of her mouth. She drank the orange liquid down and looked at her mother in triumph.

"Do you want me to come with you, dear?"

"No, that's all right, Mum. I have no idea how long this is going to take. If everything goes well, I'll try to convince Harry to come home with me."

In reality, Ginny didn't think performing the actual spell would take any time at all. She only hoped to get some time alone with Harry once she was done, and she didn't particularly want her mother around for that.

Her mother gave her a piercing look. "I don't want you tiring yourself out. You've been through a lot in the past few weeks. I want you and Harry to come straight home and have a good supper. And you're going to bed early tonight. And tomorrow we'll see about getting you back to school."

Ginny didn't bother to argue with her mother. She just wanted to be off. She only had a bit more than an hour and a half before her time ran out, and all her efforts came to nothing. She waited while her mother opened up the Floo again and handed her wand back to her.

Just as Ginny was about to step towards the fireplace, her mother pulled her into an impulsive hug. "Bring him back to us," she whispered.

*

Harry opened his eyes to a dim half-light. It was daylight outside; he knew that much. It was also very likely afternoon, since he hadn't gone to sleep until the wee hours of the morning.

He lay for a moment, wondering whether he should open his blinds today. Maybe the sun was shining out there. Maybe he should go outside and get some fresh air. Or maybe he'd wait until tomorrow.

He lay a while longer to see if he'd drop back off to sleep. The more time he spent sleeping, the longer he didn't have to think about… things. When he'd stared at the iron grey ceiling for a while, listening to the silence, and nothing happened, he realised he was going to have to get up.

Swearing to himself, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He ran his nails over his itchy scalp, knowing it would make his hair stand on end, and not really caring. From the sound of things, he was alone in the house. Good. It meant he could risk venturing out of his room without anyone hovering.

He grabbed a pair of clean boxers and headed for the shower. Several minutes later, he dried himself off and ran a comb through his hair to make it lie flat, knowing the effort was largely pointless. He avoided looking at his reflection; he knew what the mirror would show him: a pasty-faced, overly thin, unshaven young man.

Clad only in his boxers, he padded to the empty kitchen next, trying to decide if he felt like making himself eat something. The clock above the sink read half past one. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out the orange juice, twisting off the cap, raising it to his mouth and taking a swig directly from the bottle as he considered his choices. He opened a plastic container and discovered something that looked as if it was ready to grow legs and walk off on its own. He wrinkled his nose and put it back. Perhaps just some toast then. He reached for the butter.

A crash from the fireplace behind him nearly made him drop the orange juice bottle. Turning, his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of a familiar shock of red hair. Ginny raised her head, brown eyes meeting green, as she remained sprawled on the floor for a moment. 

Harry took an involuntary step backward. Her face was streaked with soot, but it wasn't enough to hide the circles under her eyes. He'd only seen her looking this tired once before, and that had been just over a year ago.

She stood shakily, and he noticed immediately that she was even thinner than she'd been at Christmas. What had that Bulgarian bastard done to her?

"Harry!" She was smiling broadly through her fatigue. "Thank God you're here."

He couldn't reply to her. Something had frozen within him. She was rushing towards him, and all he could think about was getting away. He set the orange juice on the counter, and turned a chair over to impede her progress.

"Harry, what are you doing? I've come to help you!"

Without a word to her, he turned and walked out of the kitchen. Back in his room, he cursed Sirius for breaking the lock on his door. He knew Ginny, and he knew she would follow him. Even if there had been a lock on the door, she would have kept trying until she found a way to get to him.

She didn't even bother to knock. The door swung open, and there she was. She was talking to him, trying to get a response out of him. Part of his mind registered and understood this much, but he didn't want to process her words, couldn't bear to. She was there, in front of him, coming closer.

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. He jerked away from her touch, but he could still feel the imprint on his skin. It burned him. In stony silence, he picked up a wrinkled shirt and a pair of trousers from off the floor and put them on. Then he walked out on her again.

He couldn't deal with this now. Her touch could still affect him, and he could no longer afford to allow that to happen. Whatever her reasons for coming over here, they couldn't be good. If he kept repeating that idea to himself often enough, perhaps he'd end up believing it.

She'd followed him into the living room, still jabbering away at him, but he didn't want to hear it. His trainers were lying haphazardly on the floor beside an armchair, and he sat for a moment to yank them on. Ginny came and stood in front of him, while he tied the laces. Something about him not walking out on her penetrated his brain. He'd show her. He'd walk out if he bloody well wanted to.

He stood up and pushed roughly past her as he headed for the front door. Once he was outside he'd have peace. She followed practically on his heels. She wasn't going to let him get away with this. Whatever it took, she wouldn't give up until he listened to her. He'd damned well better listen soon, because there wasn't much time left.

Time for what? He stole a glance into the kitchen. It was a quarter to two. Whatever it was, he didn't much care.

He reached for the front door knob and turned it. It didn't budge. He did say something out loud then. He cursed Sirius for his hard-headedness.

"Oh, so you've finally decided you can talk, can you?" Ginny had crossed her arms over her chest and was looking at him from beneath one raised eyebrow. She did not look pleased with him at all. "Are you going to tell me what the problem is, or are you going to keep being a baby about it?"

"What the problem is?" Harry shouted. "You want me to tell you what the _problem_ is? You LIED to me! Isn't that enough? You said you loved me when you don't! You LEFT me! Are you happy? Are you happy with… with…" Harry couldn't even bear to say the name. "… with HIM?"

Ginny's eyes were brilliant with tears, but there was something else glittering there as well. Was it anger, determination, or the two combined? "Is that what you think of me?" she asked, as the first tear slipped down her cheek. "After all we've been through together, you see one picture and think I'm a whore?"

That one word stuck Harry like a blow.

"I've loved you for so long," she went on. "Do you think I'd throw that all away and leave you after I'd agreed to marry you? Do you think so little of me? I know what's been said about me. I know what others think. But I never thought you'd desert me. I always thought we'd be there for each other no matter what happened."

She paused and wiped at her eyes. Harry stood rooted to the spot. He had no idea what he could possibly say to her. "I'm sorry you feel that way," she continued after a moment. "I'll tell you why I'm here, I'll do what I came for, and then I'll go. You won't have to see me again."

Harry finally found his voice. "What do you mean? What have you come to do?"

"I've got a spell that's supposed to restore your powers."

"What? What are you talking about? Remus told us there was nothing we could do about it."

"He was wrong. I went in search of a spell for you, and I didn't give up until I found one."

Harry was having a great deal of difficulty bending his mind around the idea. "Why?"

"_Why?_ WHY? How can you even ask that? Because I love you, you stupid idiot! You're _unhappy_ without your powers! I wanted to give that back to you!"

"But… but you _left_ me."

Ginny looked away long enough to make Harry suspect she was counting to ten. "No," she said patiently, "I didn't leave you. I went to find a cure."

"But you were with Viktor. I saw the picture."

"Viktor was helping me. He told me there was a way when Hermione and I had all but given up."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. "Yeah, I'll just bet he helped you. What did you have to do?"

She had to have understood what he was implying from his tone, but she deliberately chose to misinterpret what he was asking. "To get the spell? I gave up my talent. I'm no longer a Jewel-wright."

"Wait a minute. You expect me to believe that you gave up your talent to Viktor Krum in order to get a spell from him that would restore my powers? That just doesn't add up."

"Of course it doesn't," she snapped. "He didn't give me the spell."

"Then where did you get it and why was he there?"

"I told you why he was there. He was helping me." 

She looked like she wanted to say more, but she suddenly swayed in place, and her eyes rolled back in her head for a moment. Harry put out a hand to steady her. "Are you all right?"

It seemed to take her a moment to compose herself. "Well, no. I could use a drink, actually."  
  
"Come on, then."

He took her back into the kitchen, sitting her down at the table, while he searched for a glass in the cupboards. He poured her a glass of orange juice, and watched her take a few sips. Then he took a seat at the table with her.

"Okay. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything that's happened since you left."

"Actually it all started at the end of last summer, when Hermione asked me to help her search the library for a cure."

She went on to explain how they both had looked through the entire library. Her story matched what Hermione had told him and surmised when she'd come by the other day. Then Ginny continued to tell of her journey to Durmstrang, the research and planning she'd done there, and her trip to Denmark with Viktor, where they'd met a goddess, who'd given Ginny the spell.

"How did you find out about this goddess?" Harry asked when she'd finished.

"She's mentioned in our History of Magic text. Don't you remember?"

"No. I slept through those lessons."

"So did I, but she came up in my homework last summer. And there was more about her in Durmstrang. It makes sense that there would be. She's a Norse goddess, and Durmstrang is in Sweden."

"And why did you think she'd just grant what you asked her?"

"Because that's just what she is. Her name means 'giver' and she's a goddess of healing. So we decided it was worth trying to appeal to her."

"But why did Viktor Krum have to go there with you?"

"He was helping me."

"You keep saying that, but why?"

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "We had to travel to Denmark," she said as if this should be completely obvious. "I can't Apparate, and I don't know how to make a Portkey."

"No, I mean why was he even helping you in the first place? What was he getting out of the deal?"

"Nothing. He just wanted to help."

"I didn't realise the two of you were that close."

"He admires _you_."

"Oh, of course he does."

"It's the truth. He told me so himself!"

"So where did you sleep?"

"We had a tent with us, and there was a blanket rigged up as a wall between us."

"You slept in a tent the whole time you were gone?"

"I had my own room at Durmstrang. Harry, you're being stupid about this. He didn't touch me. I wouldn't have let him."

"I can't believe he didn't try."

"He didn't."

"Come on, Ginny. Look at you. Why wouldn't he want…"

"He never laid a hand on me," she insisted. "If he'd have tried something I would have left just as soon as I'd hexed him in the worst way I could think of."

Harry decided he had no choice but to believe her, but in the back of his mind, he knew that Viktor had to have at least been thinking impure thoughts about Ginny. He changed tack. "What happened when you met the goddess?"

"She made me bargain with her, but in the end she agreed to give me the means to restore your powers. Didn't I tell you this already?"

She might have, but Harry couldn't remember now. "Tell me again."

She glared at him. "I've just been over all this with you! Did you at least pick up on the fact that I have a time limit? I'm running out of time. Just let me do what I've come to do and I'll go."

"NO! No, don't go."

"You obviously don't want me around. Why should I stay?"

"No, that's not true… don't…"

She was speaking over him. "You don't want me here. You think I left you for someone else."

He had to keep her here for as long as possible. He couldn't let her do the spell if she was going to leave him again once it was over. "Tell me about the bargain."

She let out a short, impatient burst of air. "I tried to give her my talent."

"Tried? But you said you had given her your talent."

"She had me make a jewel, but she could look into me. She knew how I felt about having that talent. She knew I didn't want it. So in the end she refused it. She took the jewel, but she said giving her my talent was an unacceptable sacrifice."

"But in the end, that's what she took."

"She asked for something else first." Ginny's voice had gone quiet, and she looked down at her hands, which were in her lap. 

Harry suspected it was something big. "What? What did she ask of you?"

"All my memories of you." It had come out in a whisper, and he had to strain to hear her. "But I'm not giving them up," she added more firmly. "I was ready to do it. It would have been like giving up part of my soul, but I would have done it. I thought our love was deep enough that I could fall in love with you all over again."

"But how did it work out that you only gave her your talent instead?"

"Viktor stopped me. He convinced Gefinn to take both our talents, and she accepted."  


Viktor again. "Oh, of course he would," Harry snorted. "Why would he do that, Ginny?"

"Because he thought you were worth it, Harry. In honour of your sacrifice for the whole wizarding world."

Harry's jaw dropped, and he had no idea what to say to this.

"Listen, Harry," she said, getting to her feet. "Please let me do this spell, and then I'll be on my way. I haven't got a lot of time left."

"Will it hurt you?"

"It can't."

"Are you sure?"

"It's already hurt me."

"_How?_ What are you talking about?"

"When she took my talent, she took part of me. It hurt."

She'd said the words quietly, but Harry felt as if it had hurt her far more than she let on. She looked so frail, standing there, the sunlight streaming in through the window casting a sort of halo around her. "I don't want you to do this. What if it hurts you more?"

"If we wait too long it'll be too late, and I still will have given up my talent for nothing. And think of Viktor."

"Let's at least wait for Remus to come back. I'm sure he'll know more about this."

"Harry, I have to do it soon, before it all goes to waste. Do you know when he'll be back?"

Harry was forced to admit that he didn't.

"I have half an hour. If I don't do it by then it's all wasted. Both my sacrifice and Viktor's."

There was still something he didn't like about all this. "But…"

"Please. Let me do this one last thing for you."

Harry stood and faced her. She was beautiful, sooty face and all. How could he ever have doubted her love? He still couldn't fathom what he'd done to be worthy of her or what made her love him. He thought he'd be working that out for the rest of his life.

He did know one thing, though. Once she had cast this spell, whether it worked or not, he wasn't going to let her leave. He was going to keep her here with him for a good, long time. He was going to pick her up in his arms, carry her into his room, and he wasn't going to let her out again until tomorrow morning. He was going to spend the rest of the night discovering her and telling her through his words and actions that he never wanted her to leave him again.

"All right," he replied. "I'm ready."

She raised her wand. 

"Wait," he said. "Don't you have to be touching me at all?"

Ginny closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated. Harry had the impression she was searching her memory. "No, I don't think so."

"Hold my hand."

"All right."

She reached across with her left hand and captured his. Their fingers enlaced. Then she closed her eyes again and concentrated. When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was not her own. It was deeper, and echoed from her mouth, speaking words in some strange tongue that Harry had never heard before.

For a long moment, nothing happened, although he could feel Ginny's hand gripping his more and more tightly. Suddenly her hand clenched his convulsively, making his knuckles feel as if they were grinding together. He bit back a yelp of pain. At the same time an enormous burst of white light rocketed from the tip of Ginny's wand. Harry was unable to keep his eyes open against it, it was so brilliantly white.

Harry waited, hoping, praying to feel anything different. Nothing happened. Instead, there was a noise like a small explosion, and the light went out. Ginny was still gripping his hand painfully.

He opened his eyes even as she let go and fell forward into him. He tried to catch her, but he was too shocked to do anything more than to help her slip more gently onto the floor. He sunk down and eased her onto her back, while he tried to calm the bewildering whirl of his thoughts and make sense of what had just happened. 

Her eyes were open and staring, containing a terrifying mixture of pain and confusion. A single tear leaked out of the corner of one of them, slowly trailing into her hair. Her wand stuck up stiffly in her still-outstretched right hand. It was completely blasted.

Harry's heart was in this throat, and he fought with himself not to be ill. Something had just gone horribly, horribly wrong. Suddenly the image from his nightmares came crashing over him. There was no blood, Ginny's expression held no mockery, but this was just too eerily similar.

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. There was nothing but a gut-wrenching scream, as he fell upon her.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Yes, I know, I'm evil with the cliffies. The good news is, chapter 23 ought to be posted next week.

A reviewer asked me about Mrs Mutt's favourite word. I can't say what it is without affecting my rating on certain sites. Let's just say it's a combination of a certain word beginning with F followed by -wit.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and to Ami and Jo for the beta.


	23. Chapter 23

__

A/N: This is the real chapter. Jo, one of my betas, said I should put an angst warning on this chapter. So consider yourself warned.

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Twenty Three

"GINNY! NO!"

The words slammed through Harry's mind, but his voice wasn't up to coherent speech. His mouth was wide open, and the back of his throat ached with effort, but no sound was coming out now. He reached out and touched her hand, the one with her wand still in it. It was solid and warm, but there was something unnatural about it all the same. An image of Hermione lying Petrified in the hospital wing came unbidden to his mind.

Somewhere behind him, he heard the sounds of the kitchen door banging open and rushing feet, but he paid them no heed. All he could do was look at Ginny with her staring, pain-filled eyes, the single tear slipping, sparkling into her hair like some mockery of a morning dew-drop, leaving only a faint white trace of salt across her upper cheek. It was an image he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Harry! What's happened?"

Remus' concerned voice reached his ears. There were hands on Harry's shoulders pulling at him, trying to drag him away from Ginny. He shrugged them off. They returned, more insistent this time. He gave a violent lurch, seeking to escape them. They wanted to tear him away from Ginny. He simply _couldn't_ let that happen.

Remus' face came into his field of vision. "Harry, I can't help her if you won't let me," he said quietly, kneeling down on the floor beside Ginny. "Just let me see…" 

Harry relented. He reluctantly allowed the hands to help him to his feet. "Harry," said Sirius quietly. There wasn't the slightest hint of accusation in his tone. "What's happened here?"

Harry couldn't reply; he could only shake his head absently. He had no idea what had happened. His eyes remained riveted on Ginny. Remus was leaning over her, one hand at the side of her neck, feeling for a pulse, his expression graver than ever. It seemed an eternity before his brow unfurrowed in relief. 

"There's a pulse, but it's very weak," he said. "We're going to have to see about getting her to St Mungo's." He paused, and reached his hand towards Ginny's wand, as if he wanted to take it, but drawing back just before he did. Harry hadn't noticed before, but ghostlike tendrils of smoke were drifting from the blasted end of it. "This looks just like…" he began slowly. He raised his eyes to look at Harry. "But it can't be. She looks just like you did when I found you on the field in Hogsmeade."

Harry definitely didn't like the implications of that statement. His voice still wasn't working, but he could feel his throat tightening. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes widening as he saw blue sky above him. A ragged hole had been torn in the roof above his head.

A noise from the fireplace drew his attention back to the room. Someone was coming through the grate. A moment later, Mrs Weasley emerged from the Floo network, her eyes falling immediately on her daughter's form. 

"Ginny!" she cried desperately. "Oh no…" 

In the next instant she was crouching on the floor next to Remus, obstructing Harry's view of Ginny. But another noise from the fireplace announced another arrival. Harry watched as a tall, brooding figure stepped out. Krum.

He saw red.

With a roar, he leaped at the Bulgarian, pinning him to the floor in seconds, both hands wrapped around his throat.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Harry had found his voice at last. "YOU GOT HER INTO THIS MESS. HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE?"

Viktor was struggling, his eyes beginning to bulge, but it wasn't good enough for Harry. He wanted to hit. He drew back a fist, keeping the other hand on Viktor's neck, and slammed it into the Bulgarian's face. There was a satisfying crunch, and blood began to pour from his nose.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" 

He pulled back his fist, ready to hit again, but he suddenly found himself being dragged forcibly back. There were four sets of hands on him. Harry struggled mightily, his eyes riveted on the wizard responsible for all this, wanting nothing more than to have back at him.

"Stun him if you have to!" Remus' insistent voice broke in on Harry's consciousness.

Suddenly there was a pair of hands gripping him by the cheeks. He found himself staring into Arthur Weasley's face. "Harry," he said quietly, but there was no mistaking his authority, "if you don't calm down, I _will_ stun you."

Harry could see in the older wizard's eyes that he'd do just as he'd promised. Harry suddenly remembered that Mr Weasley had once worked in the Auror division, and he could now see why. He relaxed his stance slightly, but Sirius still kept a firm hold on him.

Viktor was pushing himself up off the floor, one hand on his neck, blood streaming from his nose. But he wasn't looking at Harry. He wasn't watching his adversary, wary of another attack. He was looking at Ginny. Harry lurched in Viktor's direction, nearly succeeding in breaking Sirius' hold on him.

"Stop, Harry!" Sirius hissed in his ear. "You're not helping matters. We need to get help for Ginny now. That's what's important."

Mr Weasley had made his way over to his daughter's side. "We have to get her to St Mungo's immediately. She's in no condition to use a Portkey. We'll have to send for the ambulance. Viktor, you ought to go…"

"_Why?_" Harry broke in. "Why should _he_ be the one to go?"

"Because you just gave him a new face," Sirius said. "He can get that seen to while he's there."

"Viktor can tell the doctors exactly what's happened to her," Mr Weasley added. "Quickly now, Viktor. Use the Floo. Remus, go with him and make sure he's all right."

No one thought to question Mr Weasley's quiet authority. In no time Viktor had scrambled into the fireplace, followed by Remus, both of them calling out, "St Mungo's!" before disappearing into the emerald flames.

"Krum knows something," growled Harry, when they'd gone. "What the hell does he know?"

"Yes, he knows something," confirmed Mr Weasley. "But he should be the one to tell us. He was there."

Harry wrenched free of Sirius' grip and leapt towards the fireplace, even as he remembered he wouldn't be able to follow. 

"Harry, you need to calm down!" Sirius ordered. "If you can't behave yourself, we'll leave you here when Ginny goes to the hospital! You're not helping matters in your state."

Ginny. He'd almost forgotten her in his rage at Viktor. Mrs Weasley was in tears beside her daughter. Harry let out a long breath and circled in front of the fire. He felt like a caged animal. He was as enraged as he'd ever been, but there was no productive way he could release his anger. He was still overcome with the desire to hit something, preferably Krum, but that opportunity had been taken away from him now.

He paced some more, trying to breathe deeply, trying to calm his pounding heart and unclench his fists. Ginny. He had to think about Ginny. She needed him to be calm at the moment. She needed him there with her, holding her hand and talking to her.

He stopped and leaned his forehead against the mantelpiece, trying to sort out his raging thoughts. There was a presence at his back. A hand on his shoulder. Sirius. Sirius understood; he knew all about feeling deep and utter rage and not being able to do anything about it. Harry had seen it that night in the Shrieking Shack, and he knew it was what his godfather had to have felt when he was taken to Azkaban.

Harry's shoulders slumped, and he suddenly felt utterly deflated. 

He turned, walked over and knelt down beside Ginny. Her eyes were still staring sightlessly towards the gaping hole in the ceiling. He took a shaky breath. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't bear it if he did. He had to tell her. Somehow. He reached out a tentative hand, but withdrew it before he made contact. What if he found her cold and hard as marble?

But he had to try. She had to know. He reached out again. Laying a hand on her cheek, he took another breath. "Ginny? Can you hear me?" He touched her hair. "You can't leave me, Ginny. Do you hear? You just can't. You promised to marry me at Christmas. I'm going to hold you to that. I love you, Ginny. You just have to come back to me."

A sudden loud bang made Harry nearly jump out of his skin. Mr Weasley and Sirius were running to the door. The ambulance had arrived. Harry looked up then, and his eyes met Mrs Weasley's worried, tear-streaked face. He looked away quickly in shame. He'd been perfectly horrible to her, and he couldn't face her now. Fortunately he didn't have to. A pair of medi-wizards came in and pushed him aside. In no time they'd conjured a stretcher and had floated Ginny out the door.

*

Harry met with a wall and turned, finding Sirius on his heels. Again. His godfather had been sticking close to him ever since they'd arrived at the hospital. Harry knew why that was. Viktor Krum was lurking on the other side of the room they'd been shown to upon arrival. Harry had been working hard at not looking at the Bulgarian.

"Do you mind?" he grated at Sirius, pushing past to walk the length of the room once more. His godfather did not reply, but Harry could sense him following again. Any more of this and Harry would be ready to take out his frustrations on Sirius instead.

Ginny had been taken from Remus' house over an hour ago in a lime green vehicle that looked a lot like a Muggle mini-van. It had disappeared with a loud bang much like the Knight Bus, and Harry could only pray that the ride would be much smoother. He and Sirius had come to St Mungo's by Floo, Harry clinging to his godfather's clothes the same way he'd travelled to the Ministry on his first day at work, while the others had Apparated. Since their arrival, they'd done nothing but wait.

Harry paced to the other end of the room, not turning quickly enough. He'd caught a glimpse of Mrs Weasley. She was someone else he'd been trying to avoid. His stomach churned with guilt over his words to her every time he saw her. He knew what he ought to do, and he had a feeling if he apologised it would be accepted. There'd been no accusation, no animosity in Mrs Weasley's eyes earlier. There had been concern and fear, but Harry had a feeling those emotions weren't entirely reserved for her daughter. How could she be worried for his sake when she was close to losing another child because of him?

He turned back. "Mrs Weasley…" he began, keeping his gaze pinned to the floor.

"Yes, dear?" came her quiet reply. Her tone was open, inviting. It made him dare to look up at her face. Her eyes were puffy from crying, her hands twisting in her lap from worry. 

Mr Weasley was sitting beside her on a shabby sofa, his arm around his wife. Harry stole a glance at him, wondering if Mr Weasley would try to hex him at the first opportunity, but the older man's expression betrayed no hostility. Now that Harry thought about it, Mr Weasley had had his chance to curse Harry earlier, but he hadn't done it.

"Mrs Weasley… Could I talk to you for a moment?"

The hesitation in Harry's voice was evident enough, and Mr Weasley sensed it. "Why don't I leave the two of you alone, shall I?" he said, inching forward on the sofa as he prepared to stand. 

Harry realised Mr Weasley's bad leg was still making simple movement difficult at times, and he reached out a hand to help the older man up. Mr Weasley got to his feet and patted Harry's shoulder. 

"She's going to be all right, Harry," he said, before moving off towards Remus, who was on the other side of the room.

Harry looked at Mrs Weasley. "Sit down, dear," she invited. When he'd obeyed, she added, "Now what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I, erm… I owe you an apology for what I said to you last week. I… I don't know what possessed me to say those things. I know they're not true."

"I won't lie to you, dear. What you said hurt very much, but I don't blame you. It was the shock. It was that article. It made you angry -- it made us _all_ angry -- and you were lashing out. If anyone is to blame, it's that horrible Skeeter woman."

Harry had to swallow hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. How could she forgive him so easily for the things he'd said? He'd known as soon as the words were out that his harsh judgement of her wasn't true. She'd never been anything less to him than a mother, and it hadn't been done out of pity for him but out of love.

"But… but what about the others? They all must hate me."

"I haven't breathed a word to anyone about what happened. The only people who know about last week are those who were there. No one else."

Harry blinked. He really didn't deserve this. "Thank you," he whispered.

Mrs Weasley put her arms around him. "I've said this to you before, Harry. You're just like one of my own. And it's not because of anything you've done or any of the circumstances of your life. It's you. If you still had your parents, I'd look on you as one of my own."

Harry had to bite back the sob that was threatening. He wasn't afraid of crying in front of Sirius or Remus -- he'd done that before -- or even Mr Weasley. But he was acutely aware that Viktor Krum was still in the room. He wasn't about to let himself break down in front of Krum. He felt Mrs Weasley tighten her arms about him for a moment, as if she knew he wanted to let go and couldn't right now.

"What happened?" Harry asked, when she finally pulled back. "What is it you wanted to tell me last week when I wouldn't let you talk to me?"

"I didn't know very much. I still don't know everything that happened. I imagine Ginny must have told you some of it. The best person to tell us what happened is sitting in this room. You might not want to hear from him at the moment, but he _was _there. He'd know the most."

"No!"

"Harry, the only one who knows more about this than he does is in no position to tell us anything at the moment. Viktor was there. He can help you understand why this happened."

"That's just the problem. _He_ was there. _I'm_ the one who should have been there!" The words came out louder than he'd intended, and he felt the others' eyes on him.

Harry got to his feet. He was agitated, and he needed to move. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius step forward. Harry's shadow had returned to make sure Harry wasn't going to try to rip Viktor's throat out again.

He felt Sirius put a hand on his shoulder. "You ought to listen to what Viktor can tell us, I think," he said quietly.

Harry pushed the hand aside. "Don't you get it? I don't _want _to hear what he has to say!"

"Harry." Mr Weasley was coming forward now. "I think you need to hear this, whether you want to or not. You need to understand what happened."

"Do _you _know?"

"I know some of it. There wasn't time to hear the entire tale. Viktor came into my office at the Ministry this afternoon in quite a state. He told me he was in a hurry and that he had to find Ginny right away. I asked for more details, but he insisted there wasn't time. He had to stop her. Please, Harry, I'd like to hear the story from the beginning. I'm sure Molly would like to know why her only daughter looks as if she's been Petrified. Sirius and Remus would like to know what happened in their house. Viktor can tell all of us. That way he only has to tell the whole story once."

Sirius' hand was back on Harry's shoulder, exerting a gentle but firm pressure and steering Harry back to the sofa beside Mrs Weasley. Sirius sat on his other side, while Mr Weasley took a seat in an armchair at a right angle to the sofa. Remus and Viktor were seated across the room on another sofa, but the distance was not so great as to make conversation uncomfortable. Viktor had his face buried in his hands at the moment.

"Viktor," Remus said, "are you ready to tell your story now?"

Viktor removed his hands from his face. His nose bore a white bandage now, where the medi-wizards hand patched it up. He nodded once and began to speak.

Harry sat and stared at his hands -- he refused to look up -- while Viktor told them everything he knew, beginning the previous autumn and continuing through the journey to Denmark. His tale matched what Ginny had already told him. It wasn't until he'd got to the point where Ginny had taken the Portkey and travelled to the Ministry that Viktor divulged anything that was new to Harry.

Viktor paused at this point. He looked as if he was steeling himself for the next part of the story, and Harry got the distinct impression that whatever came next was an unpleasant memory.

"Ginny left suddenly," said Viktor. "I wanted her to stay and rest before she returned home, but she took her Portkey and disappeared. I didn't like it; I knew she was weak. I was weakened myself when the goddess took my talent. I think it was worse for Ginny. Gefinn held onto her much longer, I think, and Ginny cried out in pain, while I experienced very little."

Harry scowled. It wasn't fair that Ginny should have been hurt -- and she'd told him she had been -- while Viktor had got off relatively easy. There was also something in the way Viktor talked about Ginny. Something in the way he said her name. Ginny had told Harry that Viktor had been a perfect gentleman the entire time they were together, but it was now evident that if Ginny had given the Bulgarian any sort of encouragement, his behaviour would have been less than brotherly.

"But Ginny disappeared before I could stop her," Viktor went on. "She left everything behind. I was going to take one of the other Portkeys I'd prepared in case of emergency, one which would take me back to Durmstrang, and travel from there to England, but before I could make a move to pack up our things, Gefinn came out of her cave.

"She put some sort of spell on me then. I couldn't move or speak. And she told me exactly what she'd done to Ginny… The spell she'd set in Ginny's head would not restore Harry's powers…" He paused and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. Harry thought he saw Viktor blink hard a time or two. Then he murmured something inaudible.

Everyone seemed to lean forward in his seat awaiting Viktor's pronouncement. It took him a moment to realise no one had heard him the first time. He swallowed hard before repeating, "The spell would not restore Harry's powers, it would strip Ginny of her own…"  


"NO!" Harry was on his feet in an instant. "NO! THAT CAN'T BE TRUE!"   


He was striding across towards Viktor, but Sirius was on him in an instant, pulling him back. And Harry knew, even as he'd said the words, that it was true, that Ginny had indeed lost her powers. That was why Remus had been reminded of Harry himself after Hogsmeade. The same thing had happened to Ginny. And he'd let her do it. He buried his face in his hands, as he recalled the pain losing his powers had caused him to suffer. He knew he'd probably blocked some of it out, but now Ginny had just gone through that…

"Gefinn is devious like that, Harry," Viktor said. "She promised Ginny to make the two of you equal. This is how she kept that promise."

"Ginny told me her name meant 'the Giver'," Harry said bitterly. "But she hasn't given. She's taken! Why did I agree to let Ginny perform that spell?"

"There was nothing you could have done. Gefinn is evil. I'm sorry I set Ginny's feet on this path, but I didn't know. Gefinn is a cheat. She told me while she had me under the binding spell that even if Ginny didn't perform that spell, her powers would be forfeit at sundown. She gloated over that. She was so proud of herself. Ginny was an insolent little shrew. She took Ginny's powers to teach her a lesson in humility. There was nothing anyone could have done to stop this once it started.

"And Gefinn tortured me with that knowledge. She could see into me, and she knew. She tortured me with my feelings… She knew I was the one who had told Ginny about her. She asked me how it felt to be responsible…"

"You _are_ responsible," Harry accused.

"I'll live with that guilt for the rest of my life," Viktor acknowledged.

"But you got away."

"I think that was part of the plan. Gefinn held me just long enough. I thought she was going to keep me from going after Ginny until after sundown when I knew it would be too late. But before it got dark she released me. She told me to go and see if I could stop Ginny. Not that it would have mattered. Ginny's powers were lost from the moment Gefinn touched her. But she put it in my head to go after and try to stop Ginny anyway. There was nothing I could do. Then she released me. I think… I think now she meant for me to be there to witness Ginny losing her powers…

He paused her again until he could master himself. "I didn't take the time to pack everything, but I did think to pick up Ginny's personal belongings to bring them back to her. It was a good thing I did. She'd left this on her sleeping bag."

Viktor had reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick piece of folded parchment with Harry's name written on it. Harry took it from Viktor. "What is this?"

"She spent the last night writing that to you, I think. I'm sure she didn't sleep. She thought she was going to have to give up her memories of you. I think that maybe she's written them down. It hasn't been sealed, but I haven't looked at it."

Harry turned the parchment over in his hands. He stared at the way she'd written his name on the front of it, familiar yet rumpled, as if she hadn't had access to a proper writing surface. His hands shook slightly and his vision clouded for a moment, but he fought for control. He had to know what it said, but he wanted to be alone when he read it.

Sirius and Mrs Weasley must have sensed this, for they both stood without another word and moved across the room. Harry slowly unfolded the letter and began to read.

__

My Dearest Harry,

There's only one real way to start this letter and that's with the truth. And the truth is I love you, Harry. I have loved you for a very long time; sometimes I don't even know how long that has been. I'm in love with you, plain old you. I'm NOT in love with Harry Potter the Wizard or the Boy Who Lived or the youngest Seeker to ever play for Hogwarts. Neither am I in love with the Boy Who Vanquished Voldemort, not even with the boy who saved my life. I'm in love with you and the person you are, the boy with black messy hair and beautiful green eyes. Whether you have your powers or not doesn't mean anything to me. I couldn't care less if you were a Muggle, or a Squib or even a Vampire. Because no matter what, you are Harry and I love you! I told you once that I would never leave you, and I meant that. I might not be next to you in body, but in soul, I am right there beside you. And I will be beside you for as long as you want me there.

I know sometimes you wonder why I love you. I can't tell you, because I'm not sure I know the exact answer. The real answer in stored somewhere deep in my soul, and I just knew it the first time I saw you. That crush I had was for the Boy Who Lived, the boy I'd heard about in my bedtime stories. But I don't regret it; that crush was one thing that helped me survive my first year. You might be surprised to hear me say that, but it's true. I know we never talk about what happened that year, but even though it's not a pleasant memory, it's still important. My crush on you may have been a source of ridicule that was heaped upon me, but it also gave me the strength to do what I had to and resist. Because above all other things I didn't want to see you hurt.

In my second year, I knew something had changed, but I guess I wasn't old enough to understand that change. I just remember thinking how nice you were, and how you didn't look down on my family. Even at that young age, I appreciated your compassion. I admired the strong values you put on friendship and how you were always there for your friends, and even for those of us who were not your friends. You never flaunted your wealth or looked down on those who were Muggle-born. You made friends based on people, not on family situations or their status in the wizarding world. And with me, you never made me feel stupid or childish, which is something I know that most boys that age can't help but do. You could have easily taken advantage of my feelings, but you didn't. I don't think you could have, you don't have that type of meanness in your body. Later on when I learned of the animals that you grew up with, it didn't surprise me that you grew up to be decent as it did others. You were born decent, it's who you are. Now tell me how could a girl not fall in love with you?

I've cherished every moment I've spent with you. You gave me my first kiss. Every kiss since that day has been yours and yours alone. I want to share each and every new experience with you and you alone. I'm yours, Harry; I always have been and I always will be. Whatever I have done in the past months please know I did for you. I'll try to explain as much as I can, but remember this. If you feel you must blame someone, then that someone is me. I think you know me pretty well, and you know once I get something in my head, there is no stopping me. No one could have stopped me, not you, not my family, not Hermione, and not Viktor. So remember this is my doing. It was my choice.

When you lost your powers I was upset, but not for the reasons you may think. What upset me was what you were going through. I don't know what I would do if I lost my powers, but I don't think I'd have quite the same reaction. I guess knowing since birth that I was a witch, it didn't affect me as it did you when found out you were a wizard. To me, being a witch was the same as having red hair, and in my family that's no big deal. But to you, I think, finding out you were a wizard, well, it defined you as a person. And I know coming to a world where people didn't hate you on sight helped you fit in. I know you felt lost without your powers. I was so afraid you'd want to leave us, leave me, and I've never been more frightened. I know you've been dealing with your loss, but the pain is still there. I can see it in your eyes. 

And I'm afraid that you won't want to be around me anymore, that you won't want me in your life. I've had nightmares that I haven't told a soul about. You come in and say we are not the same, and you say I need someone better than you. And then I'm alone, and you're gone. That's scares me, Harry; it scares me so much. 

It's not that I need you. I know that sounds bad, but it's true. I don't NEED you, I WANT you. I want you to be part of my life. I want to share my hopes and dreams with you. I want to share my body and my soul with you. Do you understand that? I want to be your partner, your friend, your lover and, yes, I want to be your wife. 

But I think one thing will hold us back. And that is you. For some reason, I know you're afraid of not having your powers, and for the life of me, I don't know why that is. So this is why I am on this mission. I'm not searching to restore your powers for me; I'm doing it for you. So you can believe that we are equal, even though I know in my heart that we already are. As I said before, I couldn't care less about your powers, but I do want you happy, and I don't know that you can be happy without them. 

I guess I should try and start at the beginning, but I'm not even sure I know where the beginning is anymore…

At this point in the letter, Ginny launched into another explanation of the events leading up to the moment she wrote the letter. Much of it Harry had already heard today, both from Ginny's own mouth and Viktor's explanation. Harry was particularly interested in her impressions of Gefinn.

__

…I can't say she was what I expected; I'm not sure what I expected. Let me just say, had she attended Hogwarts, there's no doubt in my mind that she would have been a Slytherin. I'm putting my trust in her, I don't know if that is a wise choice, but it is my choice to make. She's asked for an offering on my part before she will grant my request and restore your powers. I had thought the offer of my Jewel-wright capability would be enough, but that does not seem to satisfy her. I went so far as to make a stone for her, and although she took it, she still wants more. The stone was so different from what I had made before, it left a strange feeling inside of me, but in no way did it make me want to retain that gift. That's where Gefinn took issue: what good is a gift if it means nothing to me? She wanted something I held dear, something that she believes I will not be able to live without. 

Harry please remember, I truly believe that we were always meant to be. And I know in my heart that I will always be in love with you. Gefinn has asked for my memories of you, and I am going to give them to her. Once I cast the spell to restore your powers, you and I will need to build new memories. Memories for a lifetime together. I will never forget you; my love runs too deeply for that. Harry, please know that somewhere deep in my soul I will know you, and I pray that you will help me find my way back to you. 

I was going to end this letter with that, but I can't. I can't sleep, and memories of you are flooding my mind. I guess I'm thinking, if I write some down, when you show me this letter, they'll jump out at me and I'll remember everything. Knowing the goddess as I do, and you'd be surprised how well her personality comes out, I doubt that this will be the case. But still, I think I will write them, if not for me, then for you. 

I won't go into the first memories of the boy I thought you were, because they were made from fables, so I'll start with my first real memory. Standing with Mum at the barrier at King's Cross, and they you were, this rumbled, messy-haired little boy, with these eyes that made me speechless. Of course I couldn't talk to you, not even at ten was I that brave. But you looked so scared, and unsure of yourself, but you prevailed and you went through that barrier to the train. It's silly but I was so proud of you. 

It's funny but the next thing I recall is your smile. Have I ever told you I love your smile? I really do. It's the smile where your whole face gets involved. Your beautiful mouth is wide, with your lovely teeth showing, and your eyes shine. I can't explain it, but when I see it, it gives me the best feeling in the world. You've smiled at me so many times like that, but I think the ones I remember are the ones from before we were us. In my kitchen just before my first year, I scampered out of the kitchen in fright. You said hello, and gave me that smile; it was the first time I saw it. My insides fluttered, and I was speechless, and needless to say the best recourse at the time was to turn tail and run. 

The next time I saw that smile was that horrible day in the chamber. I remember opening my eyes, not knowing what I'd see, and there you were, smiling down at me. It only lasted a few moments, but you'll never really know how you made me feel, I will always cherish that brief wonderful moment in that hideous place. 

The next smile was so silly, and it was at Percy's expense, but I felt connected to you after it. We had gone through the barrier at the beginning of my second year and Percy saw Penelope and proceeded to turn pink. It wasn't anything big, but you laughed with me, and you made me feel a bit special. Another time was also in the kitchen at the Burrow, you had just got there from your aunt and uncle's. I hadn't even said hello yet, I just smiled and you smiled back, but it was that smile, you made me blush. 

Oh, how many times I've blushed around you. I could die right now just thinking about it. You've always had that power over me, and I haven't found a cure for it yet. But you know what, I don't want a cure. I'd like nothing more than to be blushing in your arms until the day I die. It's not embarrassment that makes me blush, it's the feeling I get inside, that makes me want to hold you and kiss you and love you. I think sometimes you make my blood boil, but in an oh so good way. I know one time you made me blush but you didn't know it, that was on the train, my second year. The lights had gone out and I had come looking for Ron. When I came into the compartment you were so quick to tell me where you were sitting, so tell me, what would have been so bad if I had sat on your lap? I think you were just afraid your hands would have wandered as they do now. Don't think I don't know how your mind works.

I'm smiling now; I'm thinking about our first kiss. I wonder who was worse, you for being so clueless or me for being so scared. I remember months before that kiss, I would flirt with you, seeing if you'd take the hint, and you never did. I just thought, 'He doesn't like me,' but then I realised you were just dense. Then I thought, after all what kind of role model did you have? My brother is, although I didn't think it was possible, thicker than you. In a way it was nice to know that it wasn't that you didn't like me; it was that you didn't know what to do with me. Oh, that didn't sound right, but you know what I mean. Then there we were, standing in the living room, and you were looking at me. I couldn't look at you anymore, your eyes were so intense, and it scared me. I think you said you owed me a thank you, and then you touched my face, and I thought I'd die. You had your hand on my cheek and I thought if you kiss me I'll die, and then just as quickly thought, if you didn't kiss me I'd die. Either way I was done for. Then you kissed me, it was soft and quick, mind you, had Mum not been banging around in the kitchen, I think I would have kissed you back. Unfortunately she was, and I ran. 

I tried to convince myself that it meant nothing, and you were only saying thank you. But the next few weeks, you would stare at me, and you would bump into things; it was so cute. I'll tell you, you boosted my confidence by doing that. 

I still owe you a Christmas present. I love my bracelet, and I'll never take it off again. It's still as beautiful as it was that day, but I'll admit, not as cute as you were. Did you really think I wouldn't like it? I would have loved Bubotuber pus, if I knew if was from you. Well, maybe not that, but I do cherish everything you've ever given me. I remember how scared you looked when you were putting it on me, maybe you thought I'd bite you. 

But then you did something that scared me more. You told me you loved me. I didn't know what to say. I know I hurt you by not saying it back and I'm sorry for that. Then I couldn't tell you I loved you back until I was really sure I did. 

But I have to tell you I wasn't sure you really did love me. I mean, I know you cared for me, and I know you were having an awful time keeping things under control, but I wasn't sure it was love. Harry, it wasn't you, but I do have brothers, so I guess I've seen those looks before. And it's not that I didn't like hearing you say it, but I wanted to make sure you meant it too. I soon found out that you did love me. On my birthday, when I was ready and you said you weren't, I knew right then and there that you truly loved me. You weren't thinking of yourself, you were thinking of me, and that is the truest form of love.

Your letters are another way I see your love for me. I've read them over and over and I never tire of them. I know it's hard for you to write to me sometimes, but it's funny too. In the beginning you make small talk, and tell me of your day and the Burrow. Then you'll add in a bit more about work, or Sirius, and then I can actually feel you let go of your inhibitions and the words just seem to flow. You would think I'm used to it, but I still get gooseflesh remembering your letters. They are so honest, and true and real, they are so you Harry, and I treasure each one. 

I want to let you know, I keep your letters in my trunk at school. They're in an old sugar quill box, that I keep under my secret box of sweets, and my special parchment that I use to write to you. Please make sure I see them. I don't know that I'll know they are there when I go back to school. I want to read your letters, read your love for me. Can you do that Harry? I hope it's not asking too much. 

If you have saved my letters to you I want to read them too. If you haven't, please don't feel bad. I know some people don't, but if you have, please get those to me too. Maybe between the two, I'll be able to piece together our lives a bit faster. Then you and I will no longer be separated. Your love pours from those letters; I'll know that the instant I read them.

I just thought of something, Mr Potter! You owe me a date. I just thought back on our first, well you ready can't call it a date now, can you? From what I know about first dates, the boy is supposed to come to the girl's house, maybe bring her flowers, then take her out somewhere special, then perhaps a meal, and of course some romantic time at the end. As I recall our 'first date' you were already in my house, no flowers were in sight, and although we went somewhere special, I can't recall any food. Can you?? Okay there was a kiss, and I'll never truly forget that kiss, it will stay with me locked deep down in my heart. 

But, I think you owe me a date. Now here are the rules. You must pick me up at my house, flowers in hand and chocolate would be appreciated. You'll take me somewhere that we'll never forget and then you'll feed me. Then we can go somewhere quiet and you can kiss me, and I pray oh so much more. How does that sound, a new beginning for us, I can't wait. I love you Harry.

Thinking of you and Oxford Street, 

Love always,

Ginny

Oxford Street… Ginny always signed her letters with that. Harry could barely believe that day had only been a year and a half ago. So many things had happened since that day they'd sneaked out into the Muggle world together. Harry didn't know if he'd ever really felt like a child, but that day he almost had. They'd done something rebellious and forbidden together. He was used to doing things like that, but for the first time that day he'd brought Ginny along with him. Had that day marked the beginning of the end for her? Had her feet inevitably been set on the path that led to today even then?

Harry didn't want to concentrate on that thought. He looked back up at the beginning of the letter and began to read again, more slowly this time. She loved him. She'd done all this for him, thinking it would make him happy. She loved him, and he didn't understand why. What did she see in him that made him worth risking her future and her very life to do this for him?

He didn't get past the first paragraph when his vision clouded. How could she love him when he'd brought her to this?

He took off his glasses and buried his face in his hands. He wasn't going to cry about this now in front of everyone. He couldn't let himself. When he'd got his emotions back under control, he put his glasses back on and cast a furtive glance around the room to see who might have witnessed his near break-down. The only people left were Sirius and Viktor. How long had he taken to read the letter? He'd been so caught up in it, he hadn't noticed anyone leave. 

"Where did everyone go?" he asked. His voice sounded thick.

"Remus went to tell Ginny's brothers what happened," Sirius told him. "Molly and Arthur have been allowed to see her."

"Has… has there been any word?"

"There's been no change."

"Will I be allowed to see her?"

"We'll have to wait and see what the medi-wizard says."

More time went by with no word, and Harry became restless from the endless sitting. He felt like getting up and pacing, but he knew if he did that, he'd have Sirius on his heels again. The rest of the family began to filter in one by one. Percy and Penny, followed by Ron, Fred, George and Pauline, Hermione with Remus. An emergency owl had been sent to Egypt to inform Bill.

The waiting room was full now, and there was a buzz of quiet conversation as appropriate words were said. Harry spoke to everyone, but he barely registered anyone's replies to him. He felt separate from it all. It wasn't long before he found himself in a corner by himself, where he could observe everyone. Percy and Penny were talking earnestly with Remus and Fred. George was sitting on one of the sofas bent forward at the waist with his head in his hands, while Pauline sat beside him rubbing his back soothingly. Sirius and Viktor were both fairly close to Harry but not talking to anyone. Hermione and Ron were holding each other.

Hermione suddenly raised her head from Ron's shoulder and looked straight at Harry. Without a word, the couple broke apart and came over to his corner.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked. 

Harry had expected her to berate him for not listening to her the previous week when she'd tried to explain to him what was going on. "Look, about that day at Sirius'," he began.

Hermione waved him off. "Don't think about it. I suspected what Ginny had gone to look for, but I had no idea it would lead to this."

"It's my fault she's like this."

"How can it be your fault, Harry? You didn't even know we were trying to find a way to restore your powers."

"It is my fault, Hermione. If I hadn't been such a prat and just learned to accept what had happened and lived whatever life I could, this wouldn't have happened. But no, I had to be an idiot and make her think I needed my powers back. That's why she went to all this trouble. She did it for me. And I still don't know why she'd go to all that for me."

"Harry, that's obvious. She loves you."

"Yes, and just look where that got her. You didn't see her. You didn't see how she looked after… after the spell. I thought she was dead." His voice broke on that word, and he had to start over. "And she still might. She's lying somewhere, and they don't even know what to do for her. All we can do is wait. That's where loving me got her!"

"That's _enough_!" Viktor Krum's voice cracked through the air. "Enough of your whinging. She's lying there because she loves you, yes, but she thought you were worth whatever it took. Are you going to turn her sacrifice into nothing by feeling sorry for yourself? She believes you're better than that! Why don't you show us you are?"

Harry didn't reply; his vision blurred, and he lunged at Viktor. This time he was going to break more than his nose. Instead of reaching his quarry, he found himself hurtling towards the floor. He put his hands out to break his fall, as another body fell heavily on top of him. It had to be Sirius. A moment later, his suspicion was confirmed when he heard his godfather growl in his ear, "_Petrificus totalus!_"

Harry felt his entire body seize up. Above him, he could hear the sounds of a scuffle. "If it's anyone's fault, it's that Bulgarian git's," came Ron's voice. "He's the one who put this goddess idea in her head."

"Ron!" screeched Hermione.

From the sound of things, Ron had thrown himself at Viktor. There were several grunts and groans, and what sounded like a fist making contact. The weight on Harry's back lifted, and Harry was sure that Sirius was now trying to pull Ron and Viktor apart.

"STOP!"

An authoritative voice rang through the room, and then all fell silent. It had been Mr Weasley, Harry realised a moment later. He'd rarely heard the older man shout.

"What's going on here?" Mrs Weasley sounded as put out as Harry had ever heard her. "Ron Weasley, this is a hospital! What could you have been thinking starting a fight in here?!"

Above Harry, Ron muttered something inaudible.

"And where's Harry got to?" Mrs Weasley added.

Harry would have replied but the full body bind rendered speech impossible.

"He's here on the floor, Molly," came Sirius' voice. "I had to restrain him."

The sharp sound of heels clicking across the tile floor told Harry that Mrs Weasley was approaching. "Take that spell off him this instant. I'm sure Harry will conduct himself like a gentleman."

"_Finite incantatem_," muttered Sirius, and Harry was able to scramble to his feet.

"I think the best thing to do in this situation is to send Viktor back to the Burrow," Mrs Weasley went on. "You look tired, dear. Percy will take you back there and see to things so you can have a good rest. If anything happens here, we'll send word to you. Would that be all right?"

Viktor looked surprised at Mrs Weasley's generosity for a moment, but then he nodded. "Thank you," he said.

Harry watched him leave the room with Percy, irritated that Mrs Weasley should open her home to Krum. It wasn't his place to say anything, but the idea gnawed at him nonetheless. The Burrow had been _his_ home up until a week ago. _But you left_, a voice in his head reminded him. And it was true; he had been the one who had left, not Ginny.

"Harry," said Mrs Weasley, turning back to him, "you may go see Ginny now, if you'd like. 

"How is she?" he asked. "Is she going to be all right?"

"They don't know yet. There's been no change. Come on, I'll show you where she is."

He followed Mrs Weasley down a torch-lit corridor, and Mrs Weasley left him at the door to Ginny's room. He hesitated on the threshold for a moment knowing he probably wasn't going to like what he saw. 

It wasn't as bad as he'd thought. He'd had a picture in his mind of Muggle hospital patients hooked up to all sorts of machines and monitors. He'd seen them on the telly at the Dursleys'. Ginny was simply lying in bed, her hair standing out starkly against the starched white linens. She looked as if she was asleep. Simply asleep.

There was a chair by her bed, and Harry sat in it. Her hand was lying on the coverlet, and he took it. It was warm. What was he supposed to do now? He remembered the way he'd sat in the hospital wing and talked to her while she slept a year ago after he'd rescued her from Lucius Malfoy. He couldn't find any words now. Cautiously he inched the chair closer until he was able to lay his head on her stomach. 

And then he began to sob.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: The next chapter should be up next week. I estimate 27 chapters and an epilogue in all, so we're getting towards the end. Marian gets all the credit for Ginny's letter to Harry. Thanks to Jo for the beta, and to everyone who continues to support me through reviews.


	24. Chapter 24

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Twenty Four

The following weeks were marked by waiting: waiting for Ginny to wake up, waiting for her condition to improve, waiting until she was recovered enough to return home. Harry spent all the time he could at Ginny's side. Her family, as well as Viktor Krum, much to Harry's chagrin, came and went. Mrs Weasley had to drag Mr Weasley home each evening so he'd get a proper night's rest. But Harry remained. The only times he left Ginny were when the matrons and medi-wizards came in to examine and care for her. At almost all other times, he refused to leave her. 

He wanted to be there when she woke up.

Every night that first week, he would wait for the matrons to make their final rounds of the evening and slip back into her room, where he would quietly undress and climb into the bed with her. If the matrons were aware that he was spending the nights with Ginny in his arms, they said nothing of it. He was always careful to wake up early in the morning, dress, and tiptoe out of the room once more before the matrons returned.

If she should come out of her sleep in the night, he wanted to be at her side.

The days passed in a blur of routine until Harry was no longer sure how long they'd been here. One morning he woke up and something told him he needed to stay this time, even if it meant the matron catching him. He'd grown used to talking to Ginny to pass the long hours, even if he didn't expect a reply.

One day she would.

"It's time to wake up, Ginny," he said, brushing the hair out of her face and kissing her hairline. "It's morning."

The usual silence was all he had in answer, but something inside him made him persevere. "Is today the day? Are you going to come back to us today?"

He thought she stirred, but he didn't allow himself to let his hopes get out of hand. She'd moved against him before, and it hadn't led to anything. She'd simply settled back into her unnatural sleep again. "Can you hear me, Ginny? I'm here. I've been here every day for you. I'm waiting for you. When you wake up, I'll be here, still waiting." 

He felt it again. She definitely had stirred this time. His heart began to beat a bit faster. "You can hear me, can't you, Gin? You're in there somewhere, and you want to come back to us, don't you? Well, listen to me. Follow my voice and find your way back. I miss you."

Her eyelids fluttered for a moment, and she opened her mouth, emitting a small, incoherent sound. Harry rushed on. "Yes, love, that's it. You're doing it. Keep fighting."

She was responding. He could feel it. "Come back, Ginny. Your family is waiting. I'm waiting. I need you, Gin. I can manage without my powers, but I can't manage without you."

Her eyes fluttered open. And remained so. They were focussed. Harry felt a smile broaden over his face. "Harry?" she croaked. "What are you doing here?"

Harry's eyes were beginning to sting with tears, but they were tears of relief and joy. "I've been waiting for you to wake up." His voice was strangely gruff.

"Where am I?"

"St Mungo's."

Harry was beginning to worry she was going to remember everything, and if she did, would she expect him to have his powers restored to him now. He didn't have the heart to tell her the truth if she asked. Fortunately she didn't. She also didn't seem to find it odd that he was lying in a hospital bed with her.

"You're scruffy," she informed him. 

Harry laughed at that, and the sound echoed off the sterile walls. While he'd been staying with Sirius and Remus, he hadn't been allowed near a razor, and since he'd been at the hospital, other concerns had seemed more important. He was reluctant to leave her for even the short time it took him to hop into the shower and change into the clean clothes Sirius brought for him. "I'll see what I can do about that then."

He leaned in and kissed her gently. When he'd pulled back, her eyes had fluttered closed again, leaving Harry to wonder if he'd just dreamed the entire exchange. 

He stayed in her room that morning until the matron came in so he could tell her that Ginny had woken up briefly and that she'd been aware. The matron didn't seem surprised at all to see him, and Harry had to conclude the hospital staff had known he'd been here all along.

*

More time passed, and Ginny would wake up sporadically before drifting off again after a few minutes, but each time she woke, her eyes stayed open longer, and she was coherent. The medi-wizards couldn't tell anyone much about Ginny's condition. They'd never encountered anything like it before. All that could be done for her was to let her rest, eat, and grow strong again.

At the end of January Viktor returned to Durmstrang, and Harry wasn't sad to see him go. The rest of Ginny's family visited as they could, trying to catch her during her periods of consciousness but not always succeeding. Mrs Weasley came every day. Harry stayed with Ginny in her room during the day, occupying himself while she slept and talking to her when she woke up. He'd asked for parchment and ink, and Hermione had brought him several books on racing brooms, as well as some Muggle texts on aerodynamics. At night he returned to Remus' house by Portkey.

A few days after Krum's departure, Harry was sitting in the corner of the room, paging through _Living on a Twig and a Prayer_ by Icarus Sparrow while Ginny napped. Every so often he would pull out his quill and jot down a thing or two on a piece of scrap parchment. Spread out on the floor at his feet was another sheet of parchment with drawings of brooms on it. None of them was quite right. Yet.

"Harry?"

He glanced over at the bed. Ginny's eyes were open. 

"I'll be right there," he replied. He marked his place in the book and went to sit on the bed with her.

Ginny was still looking over towards the corner. "What are you working on?" she asked, as he helped her sit up. "That's not anything for the Ministry is it?"

"Er, no. I haven't been in to work since… Well since the day that article came out. I don't imagine I've got a job anymore, but it doesn't matter." 

He wanted to brush this topic aside as quickly as he could. He didn't want her to feel guilty that he'd lost his position at the Ministry. It wasn't her fault, after all. He now knew she'd attempted to contact him when she'd arrived in Norway. Mrs Weasley had told him she'd sent out owls, but that they'd never arrived. It made even more sense in light of another article that had appeared in the _Grand Inquisitor_, which appeared to carry the text of a break-up letter. It had looked all the more authentic since it had carried Ginny's habitual closing line that mentioned Oxford Street. Fortunately for Harry, he'd only seen this second article after he'd discovered the truth, but it proved that the letters had been intercepted.

"I've had an idea," he went on, changing the subject. "When I went to that Quidditch match, remember?"

"Yes, we looked at the reports at Christmas."

"Well, I've thought about trying…"

Harry broke off. The door had opened and a uniformed matron had come in, a large goblet in her hand. "Ah, I see we're awake," she said briskly. "And just in time for your restorative."

Ginny pulled a face, and Harry had to struggle not to laugh. He knew she hated the stuff, and she'd been made to take it in large quantities ever since she'd woken up.

"I'll be back in a bit, Ginny," Harry told her, getting off the bed. 

He knew the matron had probably come in to do more than force Ginny to take her potion. In the beginning, Harry had put up a fight to be allowed to remain in the room while Ginny was being examined, but he'd never been allowed to. The twins had taken great delight in giving him some rather lurid details about different magical means used to treat unconscious patients. There were all matter of charms that could be used to get an unresponsive person to ingest nourishment, for example, but if nourishment was going in, it implied certain other… details that Harry would rather not think about. He'd been happy to leave the matrons to their work after that.

He cooled his heels in the corridor, wishing he'd thought to bring his books with him. Mrs Weasley had been in that morning, but she'd had some errands to run this afternoon, and she probably wouldn't be back in to the hospital so soon. There was nobody else around for him to talk to.

When the matron came out at last, Harry went back into the room. Ginny didn't look very happy.

"What's the matter?" he asked her, trying to keep his tone light. "Still tasting your potion?"  


"Vile stuff," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's worse than my mother's, and I didn't think that was possible."

Harry sat down on the bed again, looking at her more closely. "Is that the only thing bothering you?"

She sighed and looked away for a moment. He saw her swallow once, hard, and when she turned back, she'd gone very serious. "Harry, I need you to tell me the truth."

"Of course, Ginny. Anything."

"Am I dying?"

"Ginny, what are you on about? What makes you say that?"

"Because I don't think I've ever felt more horrible in my life. How long was I unconscious for? And I still slip in and out. What if the next time I slip out, I don't come back? I've asked the matrons when they come in at night, and they won't tell me anything."

Harry could tell she was trying to put a brave face on things but inside she was frightened. "Ginny, you're not dying, all right? You're not." Inwardly he added, "You can't. I won't let you."

"But the same thing happened to you." This was the first time that she'd acknowledged losing her powers in his hearing. He hadn't even been certain until know that she was aware of it. "You didn't take this long to recover."

"I hadn't spent the previous months exhausting myself and not eating properly. I hadn't been sleeping out in the cold for days with nothing but a tent and a few warming charms for shelter. I hadn't made a gem before it happened to me. Only you know how much that takes out of you; I've only ever seen the effects in you. Listen, do you want me to fetch the medi-wizard and have him explain things to you?"

She shook her head. "It seems as if they've told you some things, at least. Any time I ask anything they put me off. I don't think they realise that I know what's happened to me, and they don't want to tell me."

"I don't think they know what to do with you. They know what's happened, but I don't think they know how it's happened. Your body has undergone a terrible shock at a time when it was already weakened. And this isn't something that happens every day, so they haven't got a treatment for it. All you can do is rest and get strong."

Ginny looked down at her hands, which were in her lap. "I should never have trusted her," she whispered. "I should have known something was wrong."

He put his hand over hers and took them. "How would you have known? You saw a chance and you took it. You did it out of love for me. How can I possibly fault you for that?"

"Yes, but I should have _known_. I should have just accepted… I mean I've really made a mess of things now."

"I know you, Ginny, and when you get an idea into your head, you don't let anything stop you."

A tear slipped out. "And where has that got me? I'm completely worthless now."

"Ginny!" he exclaimed more loudly than was proper in a hospital. "Don't ever say that about yourself!" 

"But it's true. What can I do now?"

"If you're worthless, that makes me worthless too. Is that what you believe?"

"No! No, of course not."

"Well then don't say it about yourself. You and I are the same now. We're equal." She looked up at him sharply when he said that. There were still tears glittering in her eyes. "It doesn't make us less than anyone else. Just different." 

He released her hands and put his arms around her, cradling her against his shoulder. She burrowed against him, and he heard her sniff once or twice. She took a shuddering breath against him, and then she was crying in earnest. He tightened his hold on her, remembering a time when she'd comforted him in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. It had been less than a year ago.

After a while, her shaking subsided, and Harry kissed the top of her head. "We're just going to have to learn to manage together, that's all. Do you think we can do that?"

Against his shoulder, Ginny nodded. He continued to hold her until he felt her relax in his arms. Her even breathing told him she'd dropped off to sleep again. If rest was the best thing for her, she was certainly getting it. He should probably ease her out of his arms and let her lie down properly. He'd do that. In a while.

*

Ginny swallowed the last of her restorative potion with a shudder. If anything, this stuff tasted worse with every dose. She banged the goblet back down onto its tray, dreaming of the day she'd be released, and the noise echoed through the empty room. She was tired of lying around in bed all day, even with Harry there to keep her company.

The door to her room opened, and she sat up in anticipation of Harry's arrival. It was Valentine's Day, after all, so perhaps he'd thought of a way to make the day special. One of the matrons had reminded her of the date just last night when she'd asked what Ginny thought she might get for the occasion. The realisation that it was already the middle of February had come as a shock to Ginny. She'd been in and out of consciousness so often in the beginning of her convalescence that she no longer had a clear idea of how long she'd been here. The idea sunk in once again now, giving her a chill, as she thought of all the complications this hospital stay was causing. She'd missed a colossal amount of school, and she didn't even want to think about what the hospital bills would amount to.

The sight of an enormous flower arrangement bobbing through the door made her set those thoughts aside. It appeared as if Harry had really outdone himself with things. Except the person bearing the flowers wasn't Harry. It was Mrs Mutt. Ginny looked at her warily.

"Hello, dear," said the older woman, the edges of her mouth turning up slightly.

"Er, hello…" Ginny couldn't bring herself to formulate any more of a reply than that.

"I'll get straight to the point. You must be wondering why I'm here after the way I spoke to you the last time we met. I'm afraid I've judged you too harshly, and I've come to apologise for that. I really should have known better than to trust something that was printed in the _Grand Inquisitor _of all things."

Ginny closed her mouth and found her voice. "Please… please sit."

"Thank you, dear." Mrs Mutt set the flower arrangement on a nearby table and took the chair next to Ginny's bed. "As I was saying, I wouldn't normally pay much attention to a rag like that, but when Harry didn't return to work, I knew something had to be wrong. And then there were all the rumours flying about the Ministry about your going missing."

"I heard there was a picture. It was enough to rattle my own mother."

"Yes, but I should have known better. I told Harry myself that those pictures can be doctored to show something that didn't really happen."

"I haven't seen the pictures, so I don't know, but if my own mother believed them, they must have been really bad."

"They didn't cast you in the best of lights, dear. And the article didn't help."

Ginny's heart sank. "Oh."

"That's all in the past now, though. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for believing the worst of you."

"I don't suppose there really is anything to forgive, is there? You were upset for Harry's sake. You were only trying to do what you thought was best for him. I know you must like him very much."

"Yes, well, he's a good boy, but I'm not sure he was cut out to work in an office. He's very clever, but I don't think the work really suited him."

"No, that job wasn't really for him, but he was trying. He wanted to fit in, and we thought the Ministry would be a good place for him. I don't know… maybe he'd still be making a go of it if I hadn't left."

"It's difficult to say if he'd have kept at it. Apart from him not being suited to the work, there were certain… people in that office who didn't make life easy for him."

"Yes, I know who you mean. There's no love lost there." Ginny paused. Something was eating at her. "Mrs Mutt? May I ask you something?"

"Of course, dear."

  
"Well, what made you change your mind about me?"

"Everyone knows what you've done, dear."

"They do? How?"  


"There have been more articles in the paper, legitimate ones this time."

"Oh no, not more articles. What have they said about me now? I don't care for me, so much, but my mother… my family."

"Everyone knows that you've come to lose your powers, but not through any sort of Dark Arts, as certain less reputable sources have claimed. It was an ancient magic cast by a goddess."

"Dark Arts? I don't understand. How did any of this get into the press at all? I can't believe my family would have talked about this. No one has told me anything! Can you please tell me what's been happening since I've been in here?"

"I can't tell you what happened in the first few days, dear. But in the week after you came to the Ministry, another article came out in one of those rags claiming there was a rash of Dark Activity going on. It had cost you your powers. And I think your friend Mr Krum was put out over that, because there was an interview in the _Daily Prophet_ a few days later, in which he told the real story. The Ministry was involved, as well. They didn't want the public to panic over unfounded rumours of Dark Magic, and there was an investigation. I also bumped into your father and asked him about it. He confirmed the story in the _Prophet_."

She paused for breath. "I knew I had been horrible to you, and I had to come. I was surprised you didn't kick me out. I would have in your place."

Ginny smiled a bit at that. "I think it was the shock of seeing you. I wasn't thinking properly."

Mrs Mutt's eyes twinkled in understanding. "I ought to apologise to Harry, as well. How is he?"

"Why don't you stay and see him? I'm sure he'd be happy to see you. He's usually here by now, but he's late today."

"I'm sure that's because he's arranging a surprise for Valentine's Day," Mrs Mutt said with a wink. Then she looked at her watch. "I'm due in at the office today, and I'm running late."

"Come back another time, then. Harry's here every day."

"Or if he can tear himself away from you for a while, he can come to the Ministry, and I'll take him to lunch. Good-bye, dear."

And then she was gone, leaving Ginny alone. When Harry still hadn't arrived ten minutes later, she began to grow impatient. There was nothing for her to do, and she wondered again how much longer it would be before she was released from her prison. She began to fidget in her bed and thought about getting up and taking a walk through the corridors. If the matrons would let her get away with it, she'd do just that. It would serve Harry right if he arrived to find the room empty.

Ginny was swinging her legs over the side of the bed when the door opened again. She quickly composed herself in case it was one of the hospital staff coming in to check on her. She really wasn't supposed to get up and wander about needlessly, even if she was bored silly.

Fortunately, it was Harry who entered this time, bearing a large basket and smiling at her in greeting. She felt herself smiling back, in spite of her earlier impatience. He'd obviously been preparing a surprise just as Mrs Mutt had said. Besides, he was giving her _that_ smile, the one she loved, the one that she felt deep in her heart. He looked good today, fairly neat and clean-shaven. She had a vague recollection of waking up beside him and thinking it was Hagrid for a moment, but she didn't know if she'd dreamt that now.

Harry opened his mouth, no doubt to wish her good morning, but then she saw him glance towards Mrs Mutt's flower arrangement on the table, and his smile faded from his face. "Where did those come from?"

"Oh, I had a visitor earlier."

"What, have I got competition now?"

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. "Competition? More like _my_ competition, you mean. You just missed her. It was Mrs Mutt. She was asking after you. I think she misses you at the office."

"Oh, well it was nice of her to visit, wasn't it?"

Ginny waited for him to give her the basket, but Harry didn't say anything. He simply set it down on the floor next to the table and came to sit on the bed with Ginny. Ginny crossed her arms.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Feeling? Oh, I'm just fine, thanks. Nothing to do, but I'm _fine._"

"Are you sure? You sound a bit put out over something."

"Oh it's nothing, believe me, it's _nothing_."

"Well, have you had your breakfast?"

"Nothing edible, thanks. Just more of that vile restorative."

"I might have something here then. Hang on."

Finally. Harry had gone for the basket.

"Your mother sent this. Look," he said, bringing it back and opening it. He began to pull out all manner of her mother's delicacies: scones, freshly baked bread, butter and home-made preserves. "She's packed enough here for the two of us. I wonder why."

Ginny wanted to scream, but she thought better of it. She didn't particularly want the matrons coming in, panicked. "I don't know," she said icily. "Maybe it has something to do with the day." 

"Really, do you think so?"

Ginny's jaw dropped. Was he really that thick? He had to know what day it was. She knew, and she wasn't even in a position to keep track of the date. Harry began to eat, and she felt like kicking him.

As it was, she decided she wasn't talking to him. If she was going to make a good show at being hacked off, she really shouldn't be eating, either, but she couldn't help herself. The food the matrons forced on her was almost as bad as the potions she had to take, and she wasn't about to pass up the chance to have some of her mother's baking. Although her mother had been sneaking food into Ginny whenever she could, Ginny still didn't want to miss this opportunity.

It irritated Ginny even more when Harry apparently didn't even notice she wasn't talking to him. When they'd finished the food from the basket, he went over to his place in the corner and took out his infernal flying books. He'd had a chance to explain to her what he was doing. He'd had an idea for a new broom design, and he was trying to see if he could make it work. The twins had been very interested in the drawings the last time they'd visited. Well fine, he could have his brooms and flight books. See if she cared.

After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling and fuming, Ginny realised she had to visit the loo… and the door leading to it was over near Harry's corner. She stole a glance in his direction. Had she imagined it, or had she caught a movement of his head, as if he'd been watching her and didn't want her to know? Oh well, let him wonder. He was a prat.

She got out of bed -- grateful that since she was now up and about her mother had been providing her with some more adequate sleepwear than the hospital issue, which didn't do a very good job of keeping everything covered -- and headed in his direction. He must have been paying more attention than he let on, for he stood up immediately. "You need any help?" he asked solicitously.

"I'm just fine, thanks," she replied, pushing past him and closing the door more loudly than necessary.

When she came out again, she thought she caught a half-smile on his face, but it was gone too quickly to be certain. She ignored him and got back into bed.

After a few more minutes, the door opened again. Ginny looked up, expecting one of the matrons had come in to prod her some more. It was one of the matrons, in fact, but she was carrying a long, white box tied with a red ribbon.

"This was just delivered for you," she informed Ginny, setting the box on the bed.

"Thank you," Ginny replied, as the matron walked out again. 

She began to undo the ribbon. She had a good idea what the box contained, and she was ready to make a fuss. It looked as if Harry had remembered after all, and he'd just been teasing her. She lifted the lid and uncovered a bouquet of pink long-stemmed roses. In the middle was one white rose, and it was filled out with sprigs of rosemary.

"Oh, Harry," she began, lifting the flowers out of their box. Then she got a look at his expression. He'd obviously hadn't had any idea these flowers were going to be delivered. "You didn't send these, did you?" she asked.

"No."

Ginny dug through the box, looking for a card. She found it under the green tissue paper that lined the box, along with a glossy pamphlet, entitled "The Colours of Roses and Their Meanings". She set the pamphlet aside for the moment, as she tore open the envelope.

__

Ginny, the card read. _Thinking of you often. Please take care of yourself. Your friend always, Viktor._

Ginny had a feeling Harry wasn't going to like this, but at the same time, she knew she couldn't hide it from him. She quietly handed him the card. He took it from her, and she watched his face carefully as he glanced at it. His jaw tensed visibly.

Ginny wondered how much Harry knew. Perhaps he'd sensed something. "It was nice of Viktor to think of me, wasn't it?" she commented, keeping her tone neutral.

"Isn't it though?" said Harry rather sarcastically.

"He's a good _friend,_ Harry, and that's all. I don't have any romantic feelings for him. You know that, don't you?"

Harry stepped over to the bed, sat down and put his arms around her. "I know that. I'm a prat, all right?"

Ginny pulled him closer. "I love you anyway." She loosened her hold enough to kiss him briefly. "Here, have a look at this," she added, reaching for the pamphlet. "There must be a reason they put this in here."

Harry settled in next to her, one arm around her shoulders, as she scanned through the pamphlet. "Look," she said, "it says pink roses mean admiration and sympathy, and the white one means secrecy."

"Oh great, so what does he mean by that?"

"That he wants to be friends? He's sorry I got hurt?"

Harry sighed. "I suppose…"

"You gave me red ones on my birthday last year," she reminded him. "_Those_ mean love."

The sound of somebody clearing his throat startled them both. Ginny looked round in surprise. One of the ugliest dwarfs she'd ever seen was standing in her room, and he was wearing lopsided wings, a toga and carrying a very fake-looking golden harp. It looked just like the dwarfs Professor Lockhart had hired for Valentine's Day during her first year.

"Great, just great," she muttered to herself. "My own boyfriend doesn't remember what day it is, and the twins pull a prank like this!"

"Miss Ginny Weasley?" the dwarf said gruffly.

"Oh no," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, I'm not. You've got the wrong room."

"That's not what they told me down the corridor. And you fit the description. Right."

To Ginny's horror, the dwarf jumped up on the foot her bed and stared down at her. She snatched up her bouquet of flowers and set them on the bedside table before looking towards Harry for help. He'd got to his feet.

"Oy! Get off the bed! I didn't pa-" 

He broke off suddenly and went red. Ginny's jaw dropped, but before she had time to react, the dwarf began to sing while the harp strings jangled discordantly.

__

"Her eyes are as brown as burnt toast with no butter,

Her hair is as red as a robin's breast.

I'm so glad she's mine,

She's simply divine.

I want to take her home to my nest."

The dwarf finished on a very off note. Ginny wondered if it would be too impolite to stuff her fingers in her ears just in case there was a second verse. As it was, she was cringing at the words. They were even worse than what the twins had written in that valentine they'd sent to Harry.

She turned to Harry and glared. "Just what _was_ that?" she demanded. "That… that… that was simply _awful_."

Harry looked hurt. "But… I worked so hard on that."

"You should have worked harder."

"Well, I reckon we're even now." Was it her imagination, or was he trying to fight off a smile? "Just what was that business about fresh-pickled toad, anyway?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask Fred and George?"

"Why should I ask them?"

"Because they were the ones who _sent _that bloody thing in the first place."

The dwarf was watching this exchange with mild interest on his surly face, but he must have decided he'd had enough. "I'm not finished yet," he informed them.

Ginny's eyes widened as he reached inside his toga and pulled out a small pair of tongs decorated with tiny red hearts. In the tongs was a piece of burnt toast. The dwarf proffered his gift, clearly expecting Ginny to accept it.

Ginny glared over at Harry. "You've got to be joking."

"Hey!" said Harry, irritated. "What is that? There were supposed to be chocolates. If you ate them, I'm going to demand my money back!"

"I thought this was more fitting," replied the dwarf peevishly, "but if you insist."

He reached inside his toga again, and pulled out a heart-shaped box. Ginny was extremely thankful it was wrapped. She didn't think she could have brought herself to eat any of the chocolate if it hadn't been. She set them next to the flowers for later.

The dwarf jumped off the bed, bowed curtly and left. "What on earth possessed you to hire a dwarf?" Ginny asked Harry when the dwarf had gone.

"I'm sorry, I reckon I thought it was funny. I really did think you'd sent me that valentine."

"Urgh, that valentine. Do you know how embarrassed I was when everyone thought I'd sent you that awful thing?"  


"Yeah, I was there, remember? It's not the sort of thing a twelve-year-old boy wants to get in front of the entire school."

"So it was right up the twins' alley, wasn't it? They managed to get both of us with that. We need to get them back."

"Ginny, no, I don't think that's such a good idea. Haven't you learned your lesson?"

"Of course not." But then she realised that she didn't know how to go about getting back at the twins now. "I'll just have to think about it a little more," she added. "After all, most of the really good things I know require magic…"

Harry was back at her side in an instant, pulling her into his arms. "Oh Gin, I'm sure you'll come up with something good."

She didn't reply. She simply let him hold her. It felt good to be in his arms. He understood what she was coming to terms with, after all. He was still going through it himself. She tightened her arms around his waist.

"Well," Harry said after a while. "It looks as if my valentine's surprise fell a bit flat. Perhaps you should tell me what you want for your birthday so I don't make a mess out of that, as well."

"That isn't for almost two months."

"If you need time to think about it, that's all right. Make it something good."

"I think I already know, actually." She leaned over and whispered what she wanted in his ear.

"Are you sure?" Harry looked rather shocked. "Even after… I mean, Krum thought to send you flowers, and I thought it was a good idea to play a joke on you."

"It doesn't matter. And yes, I'm sure. I can't think of anything I want more."

Ginny knew he was going to protest some more. He still couldn't quite fathom that she loved _him_; he'd probably spend the next eighty years working on the concept. Before he could reply to her, she drew his lips down to hers. He'd kissed her on a daily basis since she'd woken up, but always gently, chastely, as if he was afraid anything more passionate would break her. But she wasn't fragile -- not anymore -- and she went about proving it to him.

*

It was the first week in March before Ginny was finally released from St Mungo's. Harry helped her pack up her things, and they used his Portkey to return to the Burrow. Mrs Weasley was waiting for them in the kitchen, the room already filled with the smells of her delicious baking. She was preparing an enormous cake, for the whole family would be coming over later to celebrate both Ginny's homecoming and Ron's nineteenth birthday.

Ginny was extremely happy to be home, even if it was only for a few days. She expected she'd be making arrangements to return to school after that. While she knew she'd no longer be able to keep up with classes like Charms or Transfiguration, she reckoned she could still prepare to take her NEWTs in Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, History of Magic, Herbology and Astronomy. She might even be allowed to take the written portions of the examinations in some of the other subjects. Partial qualifications would be better than none at all.

It came as a shock when she climbed up to her room to unpack and found her trunk sitting at the foot of her bed. Glancing around, she saw her school books stacked on her desk, along with spare rolls of parchment and bottles of ink. The Firebolt was leaning against the wall in one corner, the bag she'd taken on her journey lying at its feet. Viktor must have brought those back with him.

She turned to Harry, who had followed her upstairs carrying her things from the hospital. "Who would have gone and fetched all my things from school? It doesn't make sense. I'm only going to have to haul it all back with me."

Harry merely shrugged at her. "No idea. I haven't even been back here since the end of December."

Ginny didn't like what she was thinking, but she didn't want to say anything in front of Harry. He didn't seem to know anything, in any case, and she didn't want to jump to conclusions. "Let me go ask Mum about this," she said before heading back out into the corridor and down the stairs.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Thanks to everyone for your continued reviews and support. Thanks to Jo for the beta.

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Amanda on fanfiction.net asked how Harry can travel by Floo. The answer is he can't unless he's with a wizard and holds on (he went to the Ministry like this the first day by holding onto Arthur). By using a Portkey he doesn't have to rely on someone else taking him places.

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Coolone007 asked how Harry could still feel threatened by Krum. I'd say he wasn't so much threatened at that point as just angry and irrational and he was striking out. Krum was just a convenient target, and he was also the one who told Ginny about Gefinn and took Ginny to Gefinn. I hope today's chapter and outtake will clear that up a bit.

Speaking of which, Marian has written an outtake, which follows. It fits in with this chapter after the first scene.


	25. Outtake: Viktor's Story

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Outtake: Viktor's Story

A/N: This outtake was written by Maid Marian.

He walked into the hospital, not knowing why he was doing this. Ginny hadn't woken up completely yet; the doctors said it could still be a few days until that happened. If Harry was there, he'd take another swing at him, but then that would only be right; Viktor would deserve it. How could he have let this happen? He should have never written to her about Gefinn. There were many things he shouldn't have done. There were many things he shouldn't have let happen.

He walked into her room and stopped in front of her bed. He wanted to go to her, wanted to sit next to her and watch her sleep, like he had done before. Harry wasn't there, and Viktor let out a breath. He had time; he should do this. Do it now before he lost his nerve. Before he had to leave and never see her again; before his heart broke completely. He was ready to confess everything to her.

"Ginny, it's me, Viktor. I don't know if you can hear me. Ginny, I'm sorry; I hope you can forgive me. I should have never taken you to Gefinn. She's evil, Ginny; I believe she is more evil than Voldemort ever was. I tried to get to you in time, to stop…"

He paused to calm his nerves.

"She held me there, in camp. Just as you Portkeyed out, she appeared before me. How could I have missed how evil she was? I know what you'd say," he snorted.

__

"She's a Goddess, and she's stronger than us."

"It still doesn't make me feel better. She stood over me and laughed. She gloated. She's heartless, Ginny. She told me how she was making you pay for you insolence. How I would pay for slighting her. She told me she could see my feelings, and knew I had only disdain for her. She was punishing both of us. But you more so; I think she was jealous of your love for Harry," he sighed. 

"I know that doesn't make sense. I don't think she knows love."

He sat for a moment gathering his thoughts.

"She told me what she had done. She laughed about it. She took our gifts and then she told me she would strip you of your powers. I told her she was a cheat, and she laughed. She said she told you that she would make you and Harry equals. Said she never promised his powers would be restored. She twisted her words into deceit and pain." He bowed his head and sat there for a while in silence.

"I know some of what you felt. Gefinn thought it would be funny for me to feel what you would feel when your powers were stripped." He went quiet again.

"I've felt Cruciatus, I thought that was the worst pain I would ever feel in my life." His voice shook with the effort of holding off the memory. 

"Ginny…" A tear left his eye, and he placed his hand on hers. "I can't imagine the pain you went through. I don't know that I could have survived it. You are so strong. The strongest woman I've ever met. Gefinn is right, you and Harry are equals. Equals in so many ways, that no one will ever be able to come between you."

He didn't know whether he should tell her all that he knew. Could she even hear him? Part of him needed her to know.

"Gefinn told me the first offer she made you. The offer you refused and berated her for. She told me, because she knew it would hurt me. But not how you might think. I know she wanted you to seduce me. To give your virginity to someone other than your true love; give it to someone that loved you. Please Ginny, do not hate me…" He stopped.

"I know she told you how I felt about you. I remember the pain in your eyes that last night at camp. And when she gloated, I knew I had caused that pain. What you don't know…"

He removed his hand from hers and rubbed his stinging eyes.

"What you do not know, is that a part of me wanted to… I know it sounds selfish. I know it would have been wrong. But I would have had you, if for only one time. I would know what it would feel like to have you in my arms. To kiss your lips. To be one with you…" His voice trailed off.

"I know that it would also have been the end of me, because you would have been doing it for him. You would never truly have been mine, no matter how hard I might try to pretend otherwise. I don't know that either of us would have survived the guilt and again, Gefinn would have won."

Viktor sat by Ginny's bedside, gazing at her still form. He had to keep going.

"You are so brave," he marvelled. "Not many gir… women, would ridicule a goddess. She was furious with you. She told you lies, knowing your principles would weigh heavily on your mind. You did not throw yourself at me. You did not flirt. You did not scheme to make me fall in love with you. You were nothing but yourself. No ruse, no artifice." He stopped, hoping his anger would subside. 

"You are a decent, honourable young woman. You were nothing but honest and up-front with your intentions. You did nothing wrong."

He had to stop again. The feelings she was bringing out in him were beginning to overwhelm him. He thanked whoever was in control of his life that Ginny was asleep. If she could affect him like this by lying there, what would become of him if she were awake?

"I need to apologise to you again. I don't think I ever really did. I'm sorry I searched your soul last year. It was a violation, as much as it would have been if you'd done as the goddess asked and given yourself to me. But I know what you'd say." He smiled.

__

"Viktor, it wasn't your fault, you were being controlled." The memory of her words to him last summer echoed through his mind.

"But it's more than that, Ginny. I knew you were a Jewel-wright the first time I looked at you. But I saw more there. I'm ashamed to admit it. I saw something in you that just couldn't be, and I needed to find out what it was. At first I thought you had darkness in you. It intrigued me. How could this slip of a girl, with vibrant red hair be dark? I studied you closely. I know you felt me, but I needed to find out. And yes there was darkness within you, but at the same time, it was not you. It was immense, and I believe it almost consumed you at one time." He smiled at her. "But I could tell, even then, that you were a fighter. You overcame this darkness. I saw the strength in you, strength which still grows." He put his head down sadly. "In a way, I had hoped you would tell me about this some day. I want to know who could have done this to you. I want to avenge the monster that hurt you so deeply."

He stopped again, not knowing if he should leave.

"I think that's when it started. That's when I saw the real you. Strong, vibrant, alive, and yes… beautiful."

He picked up her hand, and placed it in his, stroking it gently.

"I know it was wrong to have feelings for you; you were my student. But you gave me hope. The strength I saw in you, gave me the strength to do what I needed to do." 

He continued his caress of her hand as he spoke.

"Then, after the last battle, when you forgave me. I can't tell you what that did. You had every right to hate me, but you didn't. I knew I needed to find out more about you, but I wanted to do it the proper way. That is one reason why I wrote to you last summer. I wanted to see your thoughts on paper. I wanted to hear your response to my thoughts. I will always treasure those few letters we exchanged."

He was lost in thought, although his fingers moved gently over hers the whole time.

"I was thrilled when you wrote to me in November. I wanted to help you in any way I could. If I could keep those letters coming, I'd be a happy man. I won't tell you what I did when you wrote to say you were coming to see me," he smiled. "Needless to say, I was thrilled. I sat in that horrible inn for hours, waiting for you. You were adorable when you came in. Out of breath, hair flying everywhere and I know you were shocked that I'd waited; your expression told it all. Little did you know, I would have waited a lifetime for you."

He tried to gather his thoughts. How much should he say? He should tell her everything, after all, this would be the last time her saw her.

"I know when you first came to Durmstrang you thought I was being an overprotective brother. I held my laugh with your sarcastic _Yes, Sirs,_ at one point I thought you'd salute me_._ I couldn't tell you what I felt. I knew you would leave, and that is the last thing I wanted. But I was also furious with you. How could you put your life in such jeopardy? Not only travelling by yourself, but over the sea for hours. Do you have any idea what it would have done to me? To know that you were on your way to see me, and then you disappeared. I don't think I could have coped."

He stopped to gather his thoughts once again.

"You threw yourself into your task. I admired you, but at the same time I wanted to throttle you. I wanted to keep you safe and healthy, but you would have none of that. I wondered why you were like this, and it wasn't until I stopped thinking of myself that I saw it. I saw the love you have for him. I saw the future you were looking for. I envied him. I hated him."

He brushed his eyes with his hands. He needed to finish this. He needed to leave her with her new life.

"You are a very special person, Ginny Weasley. Anyone that has your love is a lucky man. Harry is a lucky man. I will always cherish our friendship. I thank you for your trust in me. I thank you for being a part of my life."

Knowing he had to leave, and dreaded the finality of that undertaking. He just sat there waiting for her to move, to speak, to open her eyes. He wanted to see her eyes. He loved her eyes. They weren't just plain brown eyes, as she had once said. They were filled with colour, with life. Her eyes had a sparkle all their own. 

"Can you hear me, Ginny? Please wake up. I'd like to see you smile. I'd like to hear your laugh." He sighed again. "I guess you're saving that for Harry. That's fine, I have my memories. No one can take those from me." He hesitated. "I love you, Ginny." 

He stood up and then leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering, perhaps a bit longer than he should. Slowly he raised his face, gazing down on her pale complexion. Not being able to resist her a moment longer, he tenderly kissed her lips. He straightened himself, stood tall, and prepared to walk away.

"If ever you need me, know that I will always be there for you," he said softly.

Viktor turned to go, he stopped mid-step.

"Harry."

"Viktor."

"I came to say goodbye to Ginny," he said quietly.

"I can see that." Harry's tone was not happy.

"Please tell her I was here," he said as he started to walk towards the door again.

"Should I also tell her you'll be waiting in the wings? Waiting for me to screw up so you can come and take her away?" Harry said harshly.

"No, Harry. I won't be in the wings, it would serve no purpose."

"Being noble, Viktor?" Harry said quite sarcastically.

"No, just realistic. She's yours. She will always be yours. Even when you are no longer here. The only thing I can ever be to her is a friend." He bowed his head, and then raised it again, a pain encircling his heart. "But even that is now impossible."

"Why is that! Have you…" Harry couldn't finish his accusation.

"No! Nothing happened. Gefinn told Ginny of my feelings for her. She made sure none of us was spared her hate," he said vehemently. Ginny is far too kind-hearted to see me in pain. She will not wish to be around me; she will see the pain in my eyes." 

"So what will you do?" Harry asked.

"I will go back to Durmstrang. I will teach. And I'll pray that one day I'll be lucky enough to find…"

"A replacement," Harry mocked.

"No." He looked Harry squarely in the eyes. "Someone that loves me as Ginny loves you."

"She told you? The two of you discussed us?" he said somewhat hurt.

"No, Harry. I could not help but see it. After a while, when I knew what my feelings were, I looked closer. I tried to see if it was something other than love."

"Looking for your chance?" Harry spat.

"Yes, I won't lie to you. Had I seen an opening I would have taken it. That makes us somewhat the same. You saw your opening and you took it. We both know something special when it is in front of us." He wasn't sure if he should go on. He thought that Harry might take another swing at him, but even that would be welcome. He hesitated a moment longer and then spoke. "I don't think I'll be telling you anything you don't know. Her love for you begins at her core. It's engrained in her soul. I thought I saw gratitude, and I did, but it's such a small part of her feelings for you. Gefinn thought by taking her memories from her, she'd take you from her. She misjudged Ginny. Her love is so deep, she would recognise you instantly. She's loved you forever, even before this life, I believe. You'll never have to fear her love dying; it will follow her even in death."

"How do you know this?" Harry demanded. "What did you do, search her soul for days on end?"

"There was no need for that. Her love for you is out in the open, it's there to see, for whoever wishes to see," he said sadly.

Viktor walked past Harry, a wrenching pain grasping his heart. This was for the best. His being here would hurt her, and that is something he couldn't bear. Just as he past under the threshold Harry called to him.

"Viktor."

He stopped and turned towards Harry.

"Thank you." Viktor must have given him a confused look. "Thank you for protecting her."

"I did not protect her enough. Had I done a proper job she would not be here. She would not be injured."

"I guess you don't know Ginny. Nothing could have stopped her once her mind was made up," Harry smiled, "Actually she can be quite scary if you tell her she can't do something. I don't want to think what she'd have done to you, had you tried."

Viktor laughed, "I picked up on that trait of hers awfully fast." Sadly he added, "I know I couldn't stop her, I just wish the outcome could have been different." 

Harry looked pensive. "I know, but then she and I would not be equals. She said that to me, when she woke the other day. She didn't care about her powers. She said as long as we were equal, we could survive anything… together." Harry thrust his hand towards Viktor.

Viktor stepped forward and shook Harry's hand. Although he no longer had his gift, he could see Harry's love for Ginny, plain on his face, just as he had seen it on hers. He turned and walked out of her room; hoping life would be kinder to him in the future, than it had been thus far. 


	26. Chapter 25

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The Long Road Home, Chapter Twenty Five

Ginny hurried back downstairs into the kitchen. The sound of heavier footfalls behind her told her Harry was following.

"Mum," she asked, "why are all my school things up in my room?"

Ginny's mother turned from her place at the cooker, her mouth pressed into a line. "Have a seat, dear. I think we need to have a talk."

Ginny did as she was told. Judging by her mother's expression, combined with the evidence in her bedroom, she knew this wasn't going to be good. Harry had picked up on this as well. "Perhaps I should just leave you to talk," he suggested.

Ginny already had a good idea what this was about, and she turned to him. "No, you can stay. Please?"

Harry looked at her gravely and nodded once before taking a seat beside her at the table.

Ginny decided to get straight to the point. "I've been expelled from Hogwarts, haven't I?"

Her mother sat down heavily. "Yes, I'm afraid you have. Professor McGonagall came to see your father and me not long after you'd begun to wake up, and she told us. She was very sorry she had to do it, but the Board of Governors gave her no choice."

"But there were extenuating circumstances! Professor McGonagall knew that!" She felt a hand on her shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

"She did, but apparently it wasn't enough to sway the Board of Governors."

"But they didn't even ask me about it. Shouldn't I have had a chance to state my case?"

"According to Professor McGonagall, the Board was concerned about precedents. They thought you were setting a bad example by running off and missing the beginning of term. Added to the trouble you got yourself into last autumn, they really didn't have a choice. I'm afraid you've made things all too easy for them."

"But what about my NEWTs? What sort of job am I going to be able to get if I can't take them?" The hand on Ginny's shoulder squeezed a bit more firmly.

"Ginny," her mother began gently, "how were you expecting to be prepared to take your NEWTs? You've missed two months of school as it is, and there are certain portions of the examinations you just won't be able to do now."

"I know that. But I _can_ take the written portions. That's _got_ to count for something. And I can sit the NEWTs that don't require magic."

"You're still behind in your classes. That's a tremendous amount of work to make up."

"I did it this autumn, and I can do it again," Ginny insisted. "As you say, there are certain things I can't do now, but I can concentrate on those things I _can_ do and prepare for them."

"You exhausted yourself this autumn making up the work. You've just recovered from nearly dying. I'm not about to have you exhaust yourself again."

"That's just it, Mum. It's not going to be so bad this time. I won't be able to do certain things, so I'll just concentrate on what I _can_ do. It's got to be better than nothing."

"Ginny, there's no point in arguing over this. The Board of Governors has decided already. They're not going to allow you to go back. I don't see how it's going to be possible for you to take your NEWTs."

"I'll write to Professor McGonagall and ask if they'll let me do what I can. I'll have Hermione owl me the lessons. I'll manage."

Ginny was vaguely aware of Harry muttering something to himself under his breath, but she hadn't been paying close enough attention to make out what he was saying. Her mother, on the other hand, must have picked up on it, for she looked sharply at him. Ginny turned to find Harry looking very guilty.

"Oh no," Ginny's mother snapped at him. "Don't you start in! Just get that look off your face! I've had about all I'm going to take of that attitude of yours. This is _not_ your fault!"

She got to her feet and began to pace back and forth while Harry and Ginny gaped at her. "If you know my daughter as much as you think you know her," Ginny's mother went on, "then you know that once she gets an idea in that thick head of hers _nothing _can stop her. And now look at the both of you!"

She stopped her pacing and stared at them with snapping eyes. "I love you both, but at the moment I could just throttle the pair of you! _You_…" She pointed at Harry. "You go out and find a spell that nearly gets you killed. Yes, I know, you got rid of You-Know-Who, but look what you had to give up to use it. And _then_ you insist no one can know about it. And look what it led to. _You_…" She turned her wrath on Ginny now. "_First_ you almost blow up your brothers, and _then_ you take it on yourself to solve Harry's problems and nearly get yourself killed too!"

She paused for breath while Harry and Ginny continued to gape. Ginny sank down a bit in her seat. "Both of you are so stubborn. So proud and independent. But you don't see what that does to the rest of us. You both take it on _yourselves_ to solve the world's problems! You don't tell anyone! You don't ask for help! You keep it a _secret_! I understand you love each other, but what neither of you seems to remember is that OTHER PEOPLE LOVE YOU TOO! DO YOU KNOW WHAT EITHER OF YOU HAVE PUT ME THROUGH? DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE PUTTING ME THOUGH _NOW_?"

Ginny's mother paused again, her chest heaving. When she went on it was in a somewhat quieter tone, but Ginny knew better than to think the storm had passed altogether. "I'm going to worry about you all the time. Did you ever think about that? How are you going to cope? How are you going to live? _Where_ are you going to live? How are you going to earn a living? Harry has money, yes, but it isn't going to last forever. And now he's insisted on paying your hospital bills."

Ginny tore her eyes off of her mother for a moment to stare at Harry in surprise. He was looking steadily down at the table. Ginny couldn't say anything for the moment, however, because her mother hadn't yet finished her tirade.

"YOU, young man… " She was pointing at Harry again. "You are going to straighten up and fly right. No more feeling sorry for yourself. You are going to stand tall and be the man you always have been. And YOU, young lady… " Now she'd turned to Ginny. "I'm not sure what you're going to do, but mark my words, IT WILL BE SOMETHING RESPECTABLE!"

This was too much for Ginny. She was on her feet in an instant. "HOW CAN I, MUM, WHEN THEY WON'T EVEN LET ME BACK INTO SCHOOL?" she shouted back. "I'D BE HAPPY TO DO SOMETHING RESPECTABLE! I _WANT_ TO DO SOMETHING RESPECTABLE, BUT HOW CAN I?"

"WELL, WHOSE FAULT IS THAT? YOU DIDN'T _HAVE_ TO SET OFF ON THIS CRUSADE WITHOUT TELLING ANYBODY!"  


"YES, MUM, YES I DID! DON'T YOU GET IT? I _HAD _TO DO THIS! HARRY WAS UNHAPPY…"

Ginny felt a tug on her shirttail. "Gin, we've been through this," Harry said to her quietly. "If it comes down to a choice between my powers and you, I know which I'd choose."

"Well, I thought you could have both, all right?" she told him.

"It's over," interjected Ginny's mother. "For better or for worse it's over. I don't give a _damn_ if both of you have lost your magic. You're alive and well, and that's all that matters. You've both made your choices, and now you have to live with the consequences. You will find a way to become useful citizens of whichever world you decide to become part of. And I'll have no more self-pity and no more tears from either of you. Have I made myself clear?"

Ginny nodded grudgingly, knowing her mother wouldn't stop until she'd acquiesced.

"Now, both of you," her mother went on, "go out there and de-gnome that garden. And heaven help you if I see one gnome out there. GO!"

Ginny and Harry both went out to the garden in a daze. Ginny was glad of the physical activity to begin with. It gave her an opportunity to burn off some of her anger. But she hadn't tossed very many gnomes over the hedge at all before she was out of breath and had to sit down. 

Harry immediately dropped the gnome he'd just picked up by its ankles. "Are you all right there?" he asked, and she could hear the concern in his voice.

"I don't understand it. I'm tired already. All I've done for the last two months is lie around doing nothing. I ought to be well rested by now."

"You're not used to all this activity. Just rest. I'll take care of this."

"Not so fast. What was that in there about paying my hospital bills?"

"Ginny, I did what I had to, to make sure you had the best care you could. You needed to be there, and I could afford to keep you there. You'd have done the same in my place, wouldn't you?" 

She nodded.

"I know you would have. Look at all you took on yourself for me. So don't begrudge me that. And the longer you stayed there, the better your chances were."

Ginny arched a brow at him. "So I've got _you_ to thank for two whole months of that vile potion?"

Harry sat down on the bench next to her. "If you still needed to take it, I'd be there holding you down. I want you to get better. I _need _you to get better."

Ginny was about to protest that she _was_ better. They'd released her from the hospital, after all. But she didn't have a chance to get the words out. Harry had taken her face in his hands and pulled her into a kiss, but he broke it off all too soon.

"Ginny," he said, running his thumbs over her cheekbones, "I've got something I need to say to you."

She looked up into his eyes and saw how serious he'd gone. "What is it?"

"Don't you ever, _ever_ put your life in danger for me again. I _know_ you wanted to help me, but I think we both need to face the fact that neither of us will ever be magical again."

"But Hermione is still looking. Maybe…"

"Look at everything you went through for me, and in the end what did you gain from it? You almost died, and you lost your own powers. I don't think there's anything out there that Hermione can find that won't carry too high a price. Do you understand that? If having my powers back means I have to lose you or anyone else I love, then it isn't worth it."

Ginny nodded again. She remembered the torn-out page from the book, and how she'd Memory Charmed Hermione over that knowledge. She knew there wasn't any way to get to it. Hermione had never seen the cure on the other side of that page, and Dumbledore had convinced her that trying to go back with a Time Turner to retrieve the information was futile. In any case, the book itself dealt with the Dark Arts, so surely any possible cure would involve magic that was probably best left untouched. Again, the price was too great.

"Yes, yes, you're right. Mum is right. We just need to get on with things as best we can."

Harry was leaning close again. Ginny tipped her head up towards him. In the moment before their lips touched, he whispered against them, "As long as I've got you, I have everything I need."

Ginny closed the gap between them, putting her arms around his neck and letting herself become lost in kissing him again. They hadn't had many opportunities for this in the hospital…

"I told you to de-gnome the garden, not come out here and snog." Ginny pulled back and found her mother had come out of the house. Neither she nor Harry had heard her approach. "Do I need to send out a Howler?"

Ginny didn't think her mother really looked all that angry, so she smiled sweetly. "No thanks, Mum, we've already had one."

"I can arrange for another one. And when you're finished out here, I've got plenty for you to do inside. It's never too soon to begin learning how to do the housework without magic." She went back into the house muttering under her breath.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. "I guess I'd best get this done," Harry said. "You just stay there and rest. Your mother is going to have enough for us to do the rest of the day." 

And Harry was right about that. By supper time, Ginny had practised peeling carrots and potatoes by hand, made salad and learned how to dust without a cleaning charm. Harry had been set to folding the laundry once he'd retrieved a Muggle carpet sweeper from Mr Weasley's shed and worked out how to use it. He'd commented that most Muggles had electric appliances for the job these days, but since there was no electricity at The Burrow, he'd had to make do with a more primitive device.

Ginny had tried to complain about learning all this at once but her mother wouldn't hear it. "You don't expect to live in a pigsty, do you?" she'd asked peevishly, pointing to the potato peelings in the sink. "This will give you practice for when you're living on your own. As long as I know you can take care of yourselves, I'll have that much less to worry about."

"Mum" Ginny had protested, "I took Muggle Studies, and Harry grew up with Muggles. We'll be all right."

"I'm sure you will be, because you're going to be getting plenty of practice in."

Ginny and her mother were putting the finishing touches on the supper preparations when the rest of the family began to arrive. When Hermione got there, Apparating into the kitchen, she headed straight for Ginny.

"I can't believe how unfair the Board of Governors is being in your case," she huffed without even taking the time to say hello. "They ought to give you a chance to show what you can do, rather than just blindly saying you're expelled. You ought to demand a hearing so you can state your case. You may have to be forceful, but with any luck I'm sure you can make them listen to reason."

"Come on, Hermione, what does Ginny want to take her NEWTs for anyway?" Ron had now joined them. "They were a bloody pain in the arse. You're lucky if you've got an excuse not to take them."

"Ron!" Hermione protested. "How's she supposed to get a proper job anywhere without her NEWTs? Now I've got an idea, Ginny…"

"Have you taken up a new cause Hermione?" Ron teased. "Planning on starting a new crusade? Let's see… Ah yes… L. A. U. G. H."

"LAUGH?" asked Ginny, turning away from the gravy she was stirring for a moment. The potatoes weren't quite cooked yet, and she'd begun on the gravy in the meantime.

"No, no, no," corrected Ron. "It's L. A. U. G. H. Librarian against Unfairness to Ginny at Hogwarts."

Hermione swatted Ron's upper arm. "Honestly. Can't you be serious for once? Don't you see this affects Ginny's entire future?"

"At least it doesn't have a double meaning. Like when I looked up 'spew' in your thesaurus." Ron was waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"You'll just have to think harder to come up with something that does, then. Just be careful you don't strain yourself."

"Oh, I can think of some nice ways I could be straining myself."

"Ron, I'd really prefer not to listen in on this," said Ginny. "There's just some things I'd rather not know about my brother, if you don't mind. Why don't you make yourself useful and help set the table? It'll give you good practice for when you've left home."

Ron had found space in a flat in Diagon Alley shared by some of his mates from work. One of them had recently married, freeing up an extra room in the place. Ron planned to move out permanently the following week.

"I couldn't believe the Governors' decision when I heard." Hermione was evidently not ready to let the subject drop. "I almost resigned in protest, but then I realised I'd be losing access to the library. I'm not as fast as you are at the translations, but I've been making progress in one of those runic texts."

"Hermione," Ginny began gently, "it's not as if I don't appreciate all you're going through, but perhaps it's time to admit there won't be a cure for Harry and me."

"But you never know what might be in those old books…"

"Have you found anything even remotely promising so far?"

"Well, no, not yet, but you just never know."

"I think it's time to give up on that, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Ginny, I can't believe you're saying this. I know what living as a Muggle is like, and it's not easy. You've been a witch your whole life. Don't you want that back? Don't you want Harry to have that again?"

"It can't be all that bad if so many people are able to survive without magic. Is it really as difficult as all that?"

"That's not the point. The point is that you and Harry were _meant_ to be magical. You can't just give that up."

"We have to face the fact that we're not magical anymore. We're not giving up, we're moving on."

"But Ginny you came so close this time. I'm sure if we just kept at it we could find something else."

"_No! _Hermione, Harry and I have talked this over, and we've decided that even if you found something it'll probably come at too high a price. I tried, and I almost died. We just don't feel as if our powers are worth that. We're going to learn to manage without them."

"Ginny, I'm sure if we worked just a bit longer."

"No! This discussion is over! We've already made our decision."

Hermione looked lost for a moment. "Well, all right, if that's how you both feel about it, but if you ever change your mind..."

Ginny put a hand on the other girl's arm, squeezing a bit. "I know, Hermione. Harry and I know you'll always be there for us. Thank you. But right now we need help in learning how to be Muggle. Perhaps you can help us with that."

She turned back to the gravy, grimacing as she saw it had begun to stick. She stirred faster, but only succeeded in scraping up the burnt bits from the bottom of the pot.

"You know I'll help you any way I can. Just tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it," Hermione said more gently.

"Well," replied Ginny. "You can start by helping me save this gravy while I finish the potatoes."

She stuck a fork into several to make sure they were cooked through, while Hermione kept an eye on the gravy. Then Ginny poured off the hot water and began mashing the potatoes by hand. A frown deepened over her face as the lumps stubbornly refused to go away even after she'd added milk and butter.

Hermione leaned over. "You know, my mum uses a mixer for that. It takes care of the lumps without tiring out your arm."

"It's a pity we haven't got one then, isn't it?" Ginny grumbled in reply.

"Yes, well, you need electricity for it to work, as well."

Ginny caught herself before she snapped at Hermione for bringing up the subject in the first place. The potatoes were going to be ruined, and it would be all her fault. But there was nothing for it now. The rest of the family was waiting. She'd just have to make the best of it.

When everyone was crowded around the magically expanded table in much the same way as they had done at Christmas, Ginny could barely bring herself to eat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron take a bit of potatoes and pull a face.

"What did you do to the potatoes, Mum?" he asked. He'd evidently not noticed that Ginny had been tending to them earlier. "Are they supposed to be crunchy?"

Before Ginny's mother could say anything, Fred added, "You did something funny to the gravy as well."

Ginny's mother glared at the boys. "That'll be enough out of you. You'll eat your supper and not make comments."

"Why?" asked George. "Are you trying to poison us?" He winced as soon as he commented. Pauline had no doubt stepped on his foot.

"That will do," Ginny's mother said again. "We can do without the comments."

"It's all right, Mum," Ginny spoke up, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Listen, I did the potatoes, all right? I'm sorry."

Hermione was looking at her sympathetically. "Well you know," said Percy, "I've always found an egg makes them smoother. And Penelope's mum swears by using an electric mixer to get rid of the lumps."

Ginny was suddenly on her feet, not quite sure how she'd got there, but unable to take any more. "I _said_ I was SORRY, ALL RIGHT?" she shouted, feeling the tears coming on. "I've done the best I can, but it's obviously not good enough! You're all just going to have to get used to it!"  


Without really thinking about it, Ginny picked up the bowl of potatoes and dumped them onto Percy's head. Then she sank back down into her chair, horrified by her outburst, and buried her face in her hands. If she'd felt a bit stronger, she would have run up to her room. Utter silence fell at the table, and Ginny knew everyone was staring at her. She wished she could curl up and die. She couldn't remember feeling this embarrassed since Harry had received that valentine in her first year.

There was a hand on her shoulder, an arm pulling her close. She buried her face against Harry's neck and wished she could disappear, as his hand rubbed her upper arm soothingly.

"You know, Perce," Fred's voice sliced through the tension. "I've been reading up on the latest hair treatments, and apparently potatoes are the latest thing. They're supposed to give extra body and prevent split ends. But I think you're supposed to use gravy as part of the treatment."

"_FRED!_" his mother's voice cut in. Ginny imagined that her brother had been about to get rid of the burnt gravy by pouring it over Percy's head.

"Yeah," added George, "just try it in the shower next time. Much less messy that way."

"You know," came Percy's voice. Ginny had a vision of him removing the bowl from his head and wiping potato off his glasses. "I just might try that. I think this is doing something for me." There was a sound of a chair scraping across the floor. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll just clean up."

Ginny didn't look up to watch him go, but she felt a presence behind her and a hand grazing across her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze in passing. She knew it wasn't Harry; he was still soothing her arm.

"Come on," Harry said against the top of her head after a few more moments. "Let's go get you cleaned up." 

The arm around her shoulder tugged encouragingly, and Ginny let him take her up to the bathroom. She didn't dare look at anyone as she left the kitchen. She was far too mortified. 

They had to wait on the landing while Percy finished cleaning himself up, and when the bathroom door opened, Ginny kept her eyes glued to the floor. Percy stopped, not attempting to walk around her and Harry.

"I'm sorry if I was being a prat, Gin," Percy told her. "I can't have any idea what it's like for you right now. But I know if any of us can manage without our powers, you can. Look what you've had to put up with from the rest of us for all these years. If you can hold your own against the rest of us, you shouldn't have too much trouble adjusting. And you've got help. If you need dump things on people feel free to take it out on me."

Ginny raised her eyes to her older brother, remembering how he'd always tried his best to look out for her the two years they'd been in school together. She'd thought he was a great git, trying to fill in for their mother at the time, but she saw now that he'd only been acting out of love and concern for his sister. And he was doing it again this evening.

She forced herself to smile at him, and he ruffled her hair.

Ginny and Harry returned to their places at the table to find the meal going on as if nothing had happened. All traces of the ruined potatoes and gravy had disappeared, and everyone was tucking into what was left.

Pauline and the twins were telling everyone that business in Hogsmeade hadn't been picking up as well as they'd hoped. Gladrags had decided to rely on their London and Paris shops to remain in business and hadn't reopened their Hogsmeade branch. Other enterprises like Dervish and Banges had reopened but weren't offering as wide a product range as they had in the past. They simply couldn't afford to. As a result the entire village was still feeling the effects of last year's battle.

"There just aren't as many customers coming in," Pauline complained. "Even with Hogwarts students being allowed to visit the village again, they don't come all that often."

"Yeah," added George, "we only ever did have about two Hogsmeade weekends a term. It was never enough to rely on in the long term. The problem is with fewer shops, and those that are still in business not offering what they used to, customers just aren't finding it worth the bother to come to Hogsmeade. It's much easier for them to go to Diagon Alley and take care of everything they need at once."

"What can be done about it?" asked Percy.

"There's not a whole lot that can be done," said Fred. "We're looking into different areas we can perhaps expand the business. Joke items may be fun and all that, but at some point we just have to face the fact that it's not something we're able to sell to a broad base of clients. In the end we rely on Hogwarts for the bulk of our business, but lately that hasn't been enough to keep going."

"What area do you see yourselves moving into then?" asked their father, as he helped himself to more salad.

"That's what we haven't decided yet," said Pauline. "When you sell Dungbombs for a living, there's not many places you can expand from there."

"What about brooms?" said Ginny. She knew the twins had been very interested in Harry's designs when they'd been in to visit her in St Mungo's.

"That's a good idea, Gin," said Fred. "There's only one problem with that. It's going to put us into competition with Harry here, and I don't know if that's such a good idea for family harmony."

"I can only design a broom, though. I can't actually make one," Harry commented. "So I am going to need help if I want to try this idea out."

Pauline looked sceptical. "That's all very nice, but what do these two know about making brooms?"

"Hey, we've experimented with loads of stuff," protested George in a hurt tone.

"I bet we can learn," pouted Fred. The he got an evil gleam in his eye. "We can practise on you…"

"I don't know," said Hermione. "They might actually be able to make a good broom if they put their minds to it. Look at all the charms they know."

"Yeah," said Ron. "It'll be great if you want a broom that turns the wrong way, makes you orange, explodes in mid-air…"

"That's just it, Ron," Hermione cut in. "Explosion leads to movement. It could shoot off like a rocket."

Ron got a wicked grin on his face, and Ginny suspected his mind was working overtime on the image Hermione had just conjured there. Harry must have had the same idea, for he added quickly, before Ron had a chance to comment, "Why don't we give it a try and see where it leads? For the moment, all we'd need is an old broom to tinker with and see what we can do with it."

"Come down to the shop next week then, and we'll see what we can dig up," suggested Fred. "Mondays are usually slow."

The talk about brooms continued, and Ginny began to lose interest as the men started getting into which specific characteristics made one broom better than another. She looked at her plate and pushed the food around on it, certain her mother's roast was perfectly delicious, but unable to eat. The potato incident had ruined her appetite. Still she knew she had to make a good show of things. If she didn't at least appear to eat she had no doubt her mother would be brewing restorative potion before the evening was over.

"Ginny," Hermione was addressing her from across the table. "I didn't get a chance to tell you earlier, since we were interrupted, but I wanted to ask you about something."

"Of course, Hermione. What is it?"

"It's about your NEWTs. I think I can get some of the teachers at school on our side and perhaps that will help persuade the Board of Governors to let you take them."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"I thought I could show the Ancient Runes professor the work you did last autumn. I'm sure she'll think all those hours you put in deserve some recognition."  


"Professor Stone has already seen parts of it. I thought as long as it was taking all that time to work on those translations, I might as well use what I could as part of my class work last term."

"But she hasn't seen them all."

"No, just a few pages."

"I think if she sees everything you did, she'll be impressed. She might even be willing to see if there's any sort of job you could get in the field."

"What kind of job could I get with no NEWTs?"

"That's just it. If you can convince her you're interested in the field and have the ability to do it, she might be able to influence the Board of Governors in your favour. Several of the people on the board are influential in the Ministry, and if they think you could benefit the Ministry, perhaps they'd see good reason to let you take your examinations."

"Why would I want to work for them if they won't even let me take what NEWTs I can?"

"Because they're going to let you. Once Professor Stone convinces the rest of the staff… Although I'm not too sure about Professor Snape. He's still not very happy about having his stores raided last autumn. In any case, once the rest of the staff is convinced, the Governors ought to see reason."

"According to Mum, Professor McGonagall already tried to convince them and nothing happened. If the headmistress can't talk them into it, what makes you think the staff can?"

Hermione pursed her lips and thought for a moment. Then her face lit up. "Because we're going to give them something else to think about."

"What's that?"  


"Public opinion."

"What?"

"Now just hear me out, Ginny. I know you've been a victim of the press lately, but maybe we can use that to our advantage. I think you ought to give your side of the story. Tell them how you were just trying to help Harry. You only wanted to restore what he gave up when he defeated You-Know-Who, and you were cheated and lost your own powers. But you gave all that up in the name of love. And now you just want to have a chance to get a decent job so you can live, but those heartless Hogwarts Governors are refusing to let you take your NEWTs."

"Hermione, that's awful!"

"Yes, but think of the public reaction. Maybe they'll write letters. If the Governors are made to look bad, I think they'll change their minds."

Ron all of a sudden leaned over and began to inspect Hermione's hair closely. "Ron!" she snapped, swatting at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I dunno. I thought your hair might be going blond there for a moment. You sound just like Malfoy talking about manipulating the press and turning things to your advantage. I just wanted to make sure you were really Hermione and not some impostor on Polyjuice. Wait a minute…" 

Ron began pulling strands of Hermione's hair apart once again. 

"Ouch! Ron!" Hermione protested, trying to pull away.

"Will you stay put? I thought I saw something."

"If you think I've got bugs in my hair then…"

  
"That's exactly what I think."

"Honestly, Ron if you…"

Ron gave a final tug on Hermione's hair. "Got her! Well I'll be buggered!"

"Ronald Weasley!" his mother shouted. "I will not have language like that at my table!"

"But Mum, look!"

Ron was holding his hand closed over something. He gave his hand a firm snapping shake before uncurling his fingers. There in his hand was a fat beetle.

"That's Rita!" exclaimed Hermione. "She was here trying to get more dirt!"

"Thought so," said Ron, closing his hand again before the stunned beetle could come to her senses.

Hermione had her wand out and quickly tapped an empty wine bottle while muttering an incantation. "Quick, Ron. Put her in here!" Ron tipped his hand and Rita slid off it into the bottle. Hermione put the cork on it. "There, she can't get out now. I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the bottle so she can't try to break out by transforming."

"What are we going to do with her?"

"Hang on," said Hermione. She went over to one of the houseplants that grew in a pot on the windowsill and pulled off several leaves. Pointing her wand at them, she muttered, "_Accresco semper_!" Moving quickly she then uncorked the bottle and put the leaves inside before sealing it again. "There," she said, handing the bottle to Ron. "She's got a food supply now, so you can keep her as long as you like. Make a pet out of her if you want."

Ron got an evil look on his face. "You don't know what you're saying. Do you know what happened to the Puffskein I used to have?"

Fred grinned. "I remember all right. She's a bit too small to use for a Bludger, though."

"I will not have that… that _bug_ in my house," screeched their mother. "Fred you're welcome to take her out and do whatever you want with her, but she's not going to stay in this house! Better yet," she added, getting out of her seat and going over to a drawer, "let _me_ use her for Bludger practice!" She turned, brandishing a rolling pin.

"Now Molly," said Mr Weasley," let's think about what we're doing here."

"What's to think about? Have you forgotten how much damage this cow has caused? If it wasn't for her and her articles, some of this mess wouldn't have happened, certainly. I may not be able to do anything about that Gefinn woman, because she's a goddess, but I can take care of Rita Skeeter!"

The twins had both got to their feet and they looked as if they were ready to hold their mother back. "Careful, Mum," put in Ron. "Don't do anything that'll make me have to arrest you."

"You wouldn't dare. Your own mother." Ginny's mother made a lunge at Ron, but he dodged out of the way holding the wine bottle over his head.

"RON!" Hermione cried. "Get out of here quick and hide her where your mum can't find her!"

Ron dodged around the table and took off up the stairs. His footsteps could be heard clattering through the upper storeys as he reached his bedroom at the top of the house. 

Ginny's mother looked absolutely furious. "I'll find her," she said, panting. "I'll find her and when I do…" 

BANG! She slammed the rolling pin down on the table. Everyone winced.

Ginny' father was trying to coax his wife into sitting down. Penelope had gone over to the cooker and retrieved the kettle to make a pot of tea, and Ginny spotted George out of the corner of her eye. He was reaching for the bottle of Ogden's.

As hot tea was being poured out, Ron reappeared in the kitchen. "There," he said taking his place at the table with the family. "That's one cockroach taken care of. Now Mum, you're going to have to promise me something. Don't make me have to inspect your rolling pin for bug remains."

*

If Mrs Weasley found the place where Ron had hid the wine bottle containing Rita Skeeter over the course of the next few weeks, Harry didn't hear about it. He didn't think she really wanted to be responsible for the reporter's death no matter what lies had been printed about her family and loved ones in the past. Ron had been keeping an eye on the situation from his vantage point at the Ministry. So far no one had reported Rita as missing, making Harry wonder if anybody would really care if she were never heard from again.

Harry divided his time between Zonko's and The Burrow. When he wasn't discussing the broom project with the twins, he was spending time with Ginny. Mrs Weasley continued to put the two of them to work around the house, as they learned to do things Muggle-fashion. For once, Harry was somewhat grateful for having grown up in the Muggle world, since it meant he already knew how to accomplish a lot of basic tasks, and he could help Ginny learn how to get by.

He even suspected that Mrs Weasley had been in touch with Sirius and Remus, because he found himself being expected to do more chores at their house when he was there as well. Sirius seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in telling Harry what to do, and Harry imagined some of that delight was payback for the time Harry had behaved like an immature git.

If cleaning up at The Burrow hadn't afforded Ginny enough practice, Mrs Weasley had also sent Ginny to clean out Ron's new bedroom in his Diagon Alley flat. Ginny had complained loudly that Ron needed the practice more than she did and he'd probably not even bother cleaning properly, so why should she. Mrs Weasley had only needed to give Ginny a look to gain her acquiescence. She had spent the entire day at the flat, returning home exhausted at suppertime, and informing everyone that the place had been in such a state, she'd cleaned the entire flat. "We'll just see how long that lasts," she'd commented. "I doubt it'll ever be that clean again."

It was a blustery mid-March day when Harry and Ginny travelled to the Ministry of Magic using Harry's Portkey. Once their business there was finished, they were going to take care of a few more errands. Ginny had mentioned a visit to the Apothecary, and Harry had some business to take care of at Gringott's before they ventured out into Muggle London. Harry hadn't been back to the Ministry since New Year's Eve, the day the first article had appeared, and he felt oddly conspicuous as he walked through the busy corridors.

They arrived at Harry's old office and went in. Mrs Mutt's grey head was bent over a large roll of parchment. The other solicitors were hard at work, all but St John. The desk he had occupied was empty, and Harry soon saw why. Gervaise St John was sitting at Harry's former desk near the counter and the filing cabinets. He too looked to be working assiduously enough: his lips were moving as he pored through a large book, his finger tracing the fine lines of text as he read.

Harry cleared his throat to announce his presence. St John glanced up, eyes widening in surprise for a moment as he recognised Harry, before going back to his tome.

Harry decided to speak up. He knew he wouldn't disturb the others. They had silencing charms around their desks to limit distractions. "Excuse me," he called in St John's direction, "but I've got an appointment to see Mr Hill. Would you mind telling him I'm here?"

St John didn't even bother raising his head this time. He went on pointing to the words he was working out. His finger stopped for a moment, and Harry imagined he was sounding out a particularly long word. Harry nudged Ginny and commented to her loudly, "Oh, looks like he's stuck. I reckon he's come across a four-syllable word there."

St John continued to ignore the both of them. Harry began to drum his fingers on the counter while he wondered whether Mrs Mutt's pet name for the git would be enough to attract his attention.

Mrs Mutt, in the meantime, must have looked up and seen them standing there. She was coming out from behind her desk, calling over to St John, "Didn't you notice there's someone standing at the counter waiting for you?"

St John shot a surly look in Mrs Mutt's direction and muttered loudly enough for Harry to catch, "If they were of any importance I would have noticed them."

"Well don't bother yourself now, dear," Mrs Mutt replied sarcastically. "Don't mind him," she added to Harry and Ginny. "He hasn't improved any over the last few months. Still as much of a--" she used her favourite word for him "-- as ever."

Harry smiled at Mrs Mutt. If he missed anybody in this office it would be her. "I've got an appointment to see Mr Hill," he informed her.

"Oh, that's fine, dear. He ought to be ready to see you in a few minutes. I got your owl, by the way. I'm taking care of it for you. I can tell Ginny about that while you're in taking to Hill."

"Thank you," Harry replied, "that would be great."

The door to Hill's office opened then, and Hill himself emerged. "Ah, Harry," he said jovially, much to Harry's relief. He hadn't been completely certain of the sort of reception he'd get from his former boss. "Come in, come in. What can I do for you?"

Harry entered Hill's office and took the seat he was offered, swallowing nervously. "I suppose I'm mainly here to apologise for walking out of my job," Harry began. "I know I've left you short-handed at a time when this office has been busier than usual."

"I see," replied Hill. "I won't lie to you. Your departure did leave us rather in a bind."

"I'm sorry about that, sir. I don't know what else to say."

Hill waved a hand at him. "There's no need to explain. There's been enough about it in the _Prophet_, and I've talked to Arthur Weasley. I understand you had other things on your mind."

"But not coming in to work and not even giving you any sort of notice… That was irresponsible of me."

"Yes, it was, but I also understand that work was the last thing on your mind. For something you wanted kept secret to be exposed in such a shocking manner… I just can't imagine. You know in the Muggle world, they have laws against such things. Perhaps…"  


"It doesn't matter," Harry said quickly. He really didn't want to get into a discussion about Rita Skeeter. He didn't want to call the Ministry's attention to her. It would put the Weasleys in a very difficult position if anyone noticed she'd gone missing. "I should have known I couldn't keep something like that secret, and that it would become generally known one way or another. The true story is out there now, so I'm willing to let it drop."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"I can see why Arthur Weasley recommended you so highly."

Harry's insides squirmed with guilt, since if he'd had a choice, he'd have done whatever it took to silence Rita's poisoned quill permanently. "Thank you, sir," he muttered.

"I want you to know, there's no hard feelings on my part, Harry. If there's anything I can do for you, I'll be happy to do it. If you want a recommendation for another position, I'll be glad to give you one. I know you weren't completely satisfied with your job here, but you did the best you could under the circumstances. If you like, I can see if there's an opening in another department. Something that wouldn't require magic."

Harry had hardly expected this. He gaped for a moment. "I… Thank you. But I don't know. I really don't think I'm cut out to work in an office."

"Do you have something else in mind then?"

"Well, yes. Something I'd like to try in any case."

"Then I can do no more than wish you the best of luck with whatever you undertake. And if there's ever anything I can do for you, you'll let me know, all right?" Hill looked as if he was ready to stand and offer Harry his hand.

"Sir, I really am sorry for leaving you in the lurch. I wanted to see if I could make it up to you."

"Unless you know of someone who would be willing to fill your old position, I really don't see what you can do."

"That's just it. I've got a friend. One of my best friends, Hermione Granger. She'd be perfect for this. She's the cleverest person I know, and she loves books and research and things like that."

"Someone like that must already have a job."

"She does, but it's not really what she wants, I don't think. She's working in the Hogwarts library at the moment, but she only took that job to have access to the books so she could try to find a cure for me."

"I see. Well, if she's interested, have her send me an owl, and I'll talk to her."

"I'll tell her. I think you'll be getting an owl from her within a few days."

Hill rose this time and extended a hand. "I was serious before. If there's anything I can do…"

"Thank you," replied Harry, shaking Hill's hand and relieved that this meeting had gone so well.

"I imagine I'll be seeing you in a few months if not before," Hill remarked as Harry was turning to leave. "You'll be at the memorial, won't you?"

Harry stopped. "What memorial?"

"The Ministry is planning a memorial in Hogsmeade for the one-year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. It hasn't been announced publicly yet, but I thought Arthur might have mentioned it at home."

"No, he hasn't mentioned anything to me. But I'm not living at the Weasleys' any more." Harry's mind was whirling with the idea of the memorial. He'd been thinking there ought to be something since Christmas. He also had a suspicion that the Ministry would try to make a big deal about his role in the defeat and simply pay lip-service to those who had died. "What sort of memorial are they planning. Do you know?"

"I haven't heard all that much. I imagine it's going to be the usual sort of thing. Lots of speeches from officials, things like that."

"If they're going to do it properly, they need to remember everyone who died in this. Everyone seems to know about those who died the first time around, but so much if it was kept quiet this time… They ought to read the names off or something. Better yet, some sort of monument. Something that will be there for a long time. And it should be everyone from the very beginning. Not just those who fought, but those who died in attacks. Everyone who died at Voldemort's hands. Do you think the Ministry has a way of finding all the names?"

Hill thought for a moment. "Yes, I think they do have that, or at least they can find out. The current Minister isn't in denial about things the was Fudge was. I think she'd be open to the idea."

"It has to have all the names from the very beginning. Starting with Bertha Jorkins and Frank Bryce."

"Frank Bryce? I thought Cedric was the first."

"Frank Bryce was a Muggle, but he still died at Voldemort's hand. Cedric was the fourth." 

Harry paused to swallow, and then the words began to come faster and faster. "People don't know what really happened, but they should. They think he came back the night Cedric died, but it started before then. It started with Bertha Jorkins' disappearance, and then Frank Bryce was killed. And then Bartemius Crouch. He was also killed in order to pave the way for Voldemort's return. People have to know, so if things ever start to happen again, they'll be forewarned. Maybe they'll be more vigilant if they know. So the story has to come out. The first three names are Bertha Jorkins, Frank Bryce and then Bartemius Crouch. And then comes Cedric. And I want him down as the Triwizard Champion. I _want_ that by his name. People have to _know_." His voice had taken on a pleading tone.

"Yes, I agree, they ought to be told," Hill replied after a moment. "And I think you're the one who ought to do it. You know more about this than anyone."

"I don't know about that, but if there's some sort of stone with all this on it, then they wouldn't need me to give them the story. It would be there for all to see."

Hill was rummaging in his desk. He pulled out a quill and some parchment after a few moments. "Now, give me those names again."

Harry complied, and then he shook Hill's hand and said goodbye. 

He went back into the main office to find Ginny still chatting with Mrs Mutt. As they took their leave, St John couldn't resist a parting shot. 

"What a waste of pure blood!" he muttered, but it was loud enough for Harry to hear.

Before anyone else had a chance to react, Mrs Mutt pulled her wand out of her pocket. A jet of light struck St John and he disappeared. The next thing Harry saw was a large brown cockroach scuttling across the floor, fleeing the light of the office for the nearest crack.

"I'm tempted to step on him, but then I'd be in trouble," Mrs Mutt commented.

"But he's disappeared now," Ginny said. "How will you turn him back if you can't find him?"

"Oh, he can stay that way. Believe it or not, he's more pleasant like that. Don't worry, it won't last long. He'll probably transfigure back on his own, once he's in his own element."

"His own element?"

"Yes, dear, a rubbish heap."

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Sorry this took a while. I got a bit stuck and then my beta got busy… And then I dumped one of the longest chapters yet on her. Sorry, Jo! But thanks for the beta…

I'm hoping to post chapter 26 next week, and I do have a final chapter count. It'll be 29 total, plus Marian is working on a couple more outtakes.


	27. Chapter 26

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Twenty Six

A few days after Harry's visit to the Ministry, a _Witch Weekly_ reporter contacted Ginny for an interview. Harry suspected that Hermione had had something to do with it. Ginny was nervous about talking to the press, and Harry couldn't really blame her. She'd suffered enough embarrassment at Rita Skeeter's hands.

However, there was something reassuring in the air about the woman who turned up at The Burrow to talk to Ginny. There was nothing artificial or garish about her, and even more telling to Harry was the fact that this woman seemed to possess all her teeth. He'd always wondered if Rita Skeeter had been obliged to get gold teeth as a result of insulting someone through her questionable journalistic practices.

The article itself, when it came out the following month, only served to confirm Harry's impression. The reporter had evidently done her research and talked to Ginny's teachers. Those who had been quoted -- Professor Snape, unsurprisingly, wasn't among them -- all mentioned Ginny's potential before her unfortunate accident over the Christmas holiday. Professor Stone, the Ancient Runes teacher, was particularly enthusiastic, mentioning that Ginny had managed to work out an ancient text that no one else had ever been able to decipher properly in the past.

The article had gone on with a rather long quote from Ginny, explaining that she didn't see much hope in being able to put any of her abilities to use, since no one would want to hire her without her NEWT results. She understood she'd broken school rules, but she felt her reasons for doing so justified her actions. She was willing to do it again, because Harry deserved that much. It was too bad the Board of Governors didn't see things in the same light as she did -- that she was trying to right a terrible wrong -- but in the end it was the Board's decision, and she was just going to have to live with it.

Evidently, Ginny had said the right thing. Three days before her birthday, she received an owl, in which Professor McGonagall asked Ginny to come see her at Hogwarts the following afternoon. When Harry came over to see Ginny that day, she was worried about the appointment getting in the way of his plans. He'd told her he had a few errands to run before her birthday, and he knew she'd assumed they were all in Diagon Alley. Mr Weasley had changed the charm on Harry's watch so that it no longer sent him to the Ministry of Magic's Apparition point but simply to Diagon Alley itself. Harry had told Ginny he had to attend to some business at Gringott's among other places.

"It's not a problem," he told her. In fact, it was perfect, but she didn't know that. "We'll just have lunch at the Three Broomsticks before you go and see Professor McGonagall, and once you're finished there, we can take care of the rest."

The following day they Portkeyed to Hogsmeade. Harry could see that preparations were being made for the memorial in June. There was nothing like a stone in place yet, of course, but a place had been cleared at the end of town where most of the fighting had taken place. Harry had heard that the stone was being prepared off-site and would be moved into place by mid-June.

The shops and houses looked rather sad and shabby to Harry as they walked back through the village to the pub. The once-colourful signboards along the High Street seemed to have dulled, and not even Zonko's looked as carefree as it had the year before. Harry told himself he ought to be used to seeing this by now, since he'd been coming on a regular basis to talk to the twins, but there was something wrong about it, something that his mind just refused to take in.

They arrived at the Three Broomsticks to find very few customers seated at the tables. It was noon, and it ought to have been noisy with patrons demanding refreshment. As empty as it was, Harry knew Madam Rosmerta would have gladly come to wait on him and Ginny at their table, but he wanted to avoid that. He had something else he wanted to discuss with her out of Ginny's hearing. He pointed Ginny to a table and told her he'd bring them Butterbeers from the bar. She looked at him a bit suspiciously but made no comment, winding her way through the tables until she found one to her liking.

"Two Butterbeers, please. We'd like some lunch, as well. Whatever you've got," Harry said to Madam Rosmerta.

"Go have a seat, and I'll bring it to your table directly," she replied.

"Well if you don't mind," Harry said, lowering his voice, "I have something I'd like to ask you about. It's sort of private."  


The landlady straightened from where she'd bent to fetch two bottles of Butterbeer. "Oh?"

"I'd, erm, well, I'd like to reserve a room."

To Harry's utter embarrassment, Madam Rosmerta looked past him to the table where Ginny was waiting for them. His face heated. He wondered if Ginny was looking in his direction, wondering what was taking so long, but he didn't dare turn and look. A knowing smile spread over the landlady's features.

"Will you be wanting that right now?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry gaped for a moment. "Um, no. I thought Friday night. Maybe Saturday, as well."

"So you'll be wanting it for more than an hour or two then."

When had the room become so warm? "Yes, that's right," he replied, fighting to keep his voice steady. "I, er… I'd like it to be special. The nicest you've got."

"I take it you won't be wanting twin beds." Madam Rosmerta had a glint in her eye now, and Harry had the impression she was enjoying his discomfiture.

"Not if you've got something bigger. I'm willing to pay extra."

"I'll see what I can do, Mr Potter. Will you be wanting any extra services? I can enlarge the bathtub and make it heart-shaped if you like." Oh, she was definitely enjoying herself.

"Erm, I thought supper in the room would be nice. Can you arrange that?"

"Of course. I think I can get you some oysters. Breakfast, too, if you want." 

Harry wasn't too sure what oysters had to do with anything, but Madam Rosmerta was expecting a reply. "Erm, all right."

"I can also arrange for some protective charms."

Harry swallowed. "Protective charms?"

"Oh the usual… Silencing charms, special wards to keep unwanted family members away."

Harry had to wonder now if she knew what had happened at Christmas. "Actually, any redheads come in on Friday, could you just make sure they stay in the pub? Better yet, anyone turns up and asks for us, you haven't seen us."

Madam Rosmerta looked keenly at him. "I can only do that as long as I've got proof you're both of age."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You know I finished school last year, and Ginny's been in the papers enough, you've got to know she's over seventeen. In fact she'll be eighteen on Friday."

"So you thought you'd make a special evening of it?" She paused and smiled at him, letting her eyes twinkle. Harry felt much more at ease now. She'd finished teasing him. "No worries, Mr Potter, I'll see what I can do. Go back to your girlfriend, and I'll bring you your meals."

Harry turned to find Ginny drumming her fingers on the table and staring at them. "What was that all about?" she asked when he walked to join her. "Why are you so red?"

"Oh, erm, well Madam Rosmerta was talking about the memorial coming up in June, and making it sound as if they were going to turn it into a big honorary thing for me. I told her I didn't want anything like that. I had that in October, and this shouldn't be about me. But she got a bit enthusiastic, anyway."

Ginny didn't look entirely convinced, but she made no comment. She might have shot him a glance or two after that, which suggested to Harry that she was wondering what he was up to, but once they were served their plates of chopped ham and salad, she began pushing her food about rather morosely.

"Nervous?" Harry asked after a while.

Ginny looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"I asked if you were nervous."

"About…" She was evidently unsure if he was talking about meeting with Professor McGonagall or tomorrow. For that matter so was Harry.

"I don't know. Everything."

"I suppose I'm not really all that hungry. It doesn't matter. Let's get this over with."

Apparently she was worried about her meeting at Hogwarts, although Harry couldn't understand why. Although the owl Ginny had received gave no hint of what the meeting would be about, Harry couldn't imagine it was anything bad. Professor McGonagall wouldn't have asked to meet with Ginny unless there had been some sort of reversal in the Board of Governor's decision, although Hogwarts was now well into the summer term. She surely wouldn't be allowed to attend classes at this point.

"Harry…" she began suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Erm… Never mind."

For a couple of weeks now, Harry had had the impression that she'd been on the verge of saying something to him only to back off at the last minute. "Are you sure?"

Ginny pursed her lips, and it looked to Harry as if she wasn't sure at all. "Yes."

"Ginny…"

"I'm sorry. I'm being daft. Actually, I do have something to say, but it never seems to be the right time, and I can't get it to come out the way I want. I'll tell you soon, I promise. Just not now, and not in public. Forget I brought it up."

"All right," Harry agreed reluctantly. At the same time he wondered what could possibly be preoccupying her so. Perhaps it was simply their plans for Saturday… The prospect was rather daunting.

After lunch they walked up the road to the castle hand in hand, Harry thinking about the last time he'd walked this path with Ginny. It had been the day she left for Norway, and four months had passed since then. For a good bit of that period, time had been meaningless to Harry while he'd waited for her to recover. Even now, existence was still taken one day at a time as each of those days brought new challenges while they both adjusted to life in a magical world when they themselves possessed none.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for Ginny in the entrance hall. Black-robed students issued from the Great Hall on their way to their afternoon classes, flowing around the headmistress like water over stone, many of them turning to stare at Harry and Ginny for a moment in passing.

"Miss Weasley, Mr Potter," the professor greeted them. "If you'll follow me, please, we'll get straight to business."

They trailed behind Professor McGonagall up the marble staircase and on to the second floor where the stone gargoyle guarded the entrance to the headmistress' office. Harry just caught the password. "Tossing the caber."

He exchanged a look with Ginny who shrugged. "Last time I was here, it was the botanical name for catnip," she whispered.

Harry let Ginny precede him into the office. He felt a bit reluctant about going in now. The last time he'd been in here was over a year ago when Professor Dumbledore was still alive. He knew from what Ginny had told him that the former headmaster's portrait was now on the wall among those of all the other past headmasters.

He finally crossed the threshold and found that while Professor McGonagall had put her own personal touches on the room, they were not enough to completely cover the traces of its former occupant. While Professor Dumbledore's array of spinning gadgets was now missing, there was something in the very air about the room that exuded the old man's presence. 

And of course there was the portrait itself. Harry saw it now, hanging directly behind Professor McGonagall's desk, as if he was overseeing everything still. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it. He looked so lifelike, so _real_. Harry could see Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkling at him from behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Now, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said when everyone was seated. "I've asked you to come here today because I have a serious matter to discuss with you. It concerns the end of your schooling."

"But I thought I'd been expelled," Ginny protested. "That's what Mum told me the Board of Governor's decision was."

"Yes, that was their decision. However, they've softened their position somewhat since then. You will still not be allowed to attend classes here at Hogwarts, but the Board has given me permission to allow you to take those parts of your NEWTs that you're able."  


"But that only gives me two months to prepare for them."

"You would only have two months under normal circumstances, but I am willing to allow you special consideration in light of your reasons for leaving school. I believe if you are serious about wanting to complete your schooling, you may be permitted to take your examinations separately from your classmates. In September, perhaps?"

Ginny stared, open-mouthed, for a moment. "Th-thank you."

"You understand that if you accept, we expect you to be entirely serious about this undertaking. The school is doing you a special favour, and you wouldn't want to give us any reason to regret our decision."

"No, of course not. I know I've got a lot of work to make up, but I can do it. And I will. Otherwise, what sort of chance will I have in life?"

"I'm pleased to hear you say that." Professor McGonagall rose. "If you'll come with me, Miss Weasley. Professor Stone has taken it upon herself to compile all the material you've missed for your classes. I must say Professor Flitwick had some interesting comments as well."

"Professor Flitwick?" Ginny asked, sounding surprised.

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips into a disapproving line. "Indeed. He was apparently quite impressed with the creative use to which you put his Charms lessons in that incident with your brothers last autumn. While he found your methods to be rather unorthodox, he was still impressed with your prowess."

Harry let out a snort of laughter, which he ineffectually tried to turn into a coughing fit. He was thinking of Professor Flitwick's alter-ego, Dr Zog, who would without a doubt find a great deal of amusement in the Zonko's explosion. Professor McGonagall had been a teacher too long to be fooled by Harry's act and shot him a quelling glance.

"Professor Snape, on the other hand, was quite unimpressed," Professor McGonagall hastened to add. "Obviously," she went on, "there are some things you will not be able to do, but you can at least study the theoretical side of matters in courses like Transfiguration or Charms. Some of the Board members are also here to see you, to ascertain that you are indeed serious about completing your NEWTs. Mr Potter, you may wait for us here. We shouldn't be overly long."

When Ginny and Professor McGonagall had gone, Harry sat for a few minutes, wondering what to do with himself. In the past there had been all sorts of interesting things to poke one's nose into, but those same things had sometimes come close to getting Harry into trouble. He remembered prying into Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve in his fourth year, and thinking he'd be blamed when Fawkes had burst into flame before his very eyes.

As if in reply to Harry's thoughts, a familiar trill sounded in the room. Harry looked up at Dumbledore's portrait and saw that Fawkes was portrayed in the background sitting on his perch. He looked as fine as ever with his red and gold plumage, and Harry wondered if the painted rendition would burn and come alive again. Fawkes let out another tone, and Harry almost felt as if he was being summoned.

He got out of his chair and approached the portrait. The headmaster's eyes seemed to have drifted closed while Professor McGonagall had been talking to Ginny, but they opened again now. "Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice a bit thick, "you've just caught me. It's almost time for my nap. How have you been?"

Harry wasn't sure how to reply for a moment. "I've… I've been doing better, actually."

"That's good to hear. I'd be quite concerned if you'd told me otherwise."

Harry wondered at the old man's words for a moment. It was almost as if Dumbledore knew. But then Harry remembered that Dumbledore did know: Ginny had discussed her plans with the portrait before setting out on her journey.

"You're wondering how I know what's happened to you," the portrait commented. "Even though it happened after my death."

"Ginny talked to you about it."

"I also had a feeling you'd found that spell before the battle. I saw the books you and your friends were working on."

"But nobody knew what was in them until Ginny and Hermione worked it out," Harry protested.

"That's true. I didn't know what exactly you'd find, but I knew you were on the right track when I saw those books. And I also knew that anything that would truly vanquish someone like Voldemort would only come at a price. I tried to do what I could to save you from having to act. Unfortunately things did not work out the way they were supposed to. Or perhaps they were…" He trailed off on a yawn.

Harry was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Let me tell you a story, Harry. You see, when you were first born, I consulted a seer about you."

"A seer?" Harry repeated incredulously. "I didn't think you took Professor Trelawney seriously."

"This wasn't Professor Trelawney. This person was a true seer."

"But why did you consult a seer about _me_?"

"Because of something Professor Trelawney said. I've told you before she'd made one true prediction before your third year here. That happened before your birth, when she said that someone from the Potter line would be the one who defeated Voldemort. Normally I wouldn't take stock in anything her inner eye told her, except, as you've seen yourself, she doesn't quite have the same delivery when she's making a proper prediction. So when you were born, I consulted someone whose reputation was a bit more reliable than Sybill's."

Harry had to wonder why Dumbledore hadn't hired this true seer to teach Divination, rather than an obvious fraud. "The seer I consulted confirmed Professor Trelawney's prediction, but she also told me much, much more about you. She saw you having several brushes with death in your youth, beginning when you were a baby and continuing until you grew to be a man. Each time someone would step between you and death and prevent it. The first person to do so was your mother."

Dumbledore paused and yawned once more. "Excuse me. Now where was I? Oh yes, then you came to school here, and met your friends Ron and Hermione, without whose help you might not have even survived your first year. In your second year, someone else intervened to save your life."

"Fawkes," Harry said.

"Fawkes' tears did save you from the Basilisk venom, but someone else saved you from Tom Riddle."

"Who?"

"Ginny."

"How did Ginny save me from Tom? She was unconscious until it was over."

"She saved you by resisting him till the end. She fought him even though you couldn't see it. She didn't let him drain her life force entirely. As long as he resisted, Tom could not become fully material. If he had, I don't think you would have survived the encounter. Then in your fourth year it was your mother again. Your father, too…"

Harry was having trouble taking all of this in. "Are you telling me this was all decided for me in advance? That I didn't have anything to do with the way my life went? You've always said it's our choices that are important. And now you're saying things would have worked out the way they did no matter what?"

Dumbledore actually gave him a sleepy smile. "Yes, I have always thought choices were important. This doesn't change any of that. You see, Harry, it's not quite that cut and dried. When a seer looks into the future he sees possibilities. A true seer sees the most likely outcome of all, but even then there are choices involved that can change everything.

"After your parents were killed I went back to this seer. You were the last Potter, and in order for the original prediction to come true, the entire weight of it all fell upon your shoulders. But you were only a baby at the time. So I went back and asked about those who would aid you along the way. That's when I learned that your parents would save you from beyond the grave. And that's when I learned more about Ginny."

Harry was liking this business less and less. Hadn't Hermione always said that Divination was a very imprecise form of magic? "What about Ginny?" he asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"I was told Ginny would save you from a form of the Dark Lord. She saw two possibilities, but in either instance, the outcome was the same for Ginny. Either she would die too soon and the Dark Lord would be strong enough to overcome you, Harry, or she would help save you but die in the effort."

"I _knew_ this Divination stuff was rubbish! Neither one came true! So how can you credit anything this person told you?"

"Because most of it did come true. Harry, no seer, not even a true one, can predict all possible outcomes. In Miss Weasley's case, she saw nothing beyond the age of twelve for Ginny. She was supposed to have died, yet she didn't. Everything she has done since then could not have been foretold. She was never supposed to make you a talisman. There never was supposed to be a Jewel-wright. Yet those things happened, and they affected Voldemort's fall."

"But I don't understand. How was any of this my choice?"

"Your fate was not tied to Ginny. She wasn't supposed to have survived. And she was a choice you made, wasn't she? You chose to accept her gift when you put on her talisman, didn't you?"

"Yes, I suppose. It never occurred to me to refuse it. I didn't even know what it was at the time. And yet… It did save my life."

"How did that come about?"

"After I banished Voldemort, I fell back and I couldn't move. Lucius Malfoy came up and tried to use the killing curse on me, but the talisman turned it back…" Harry hadn't thought much about that day lately, but the memories were flooding his mind now. "It even played a role in the defeat. Voldemort trusted his talisman enough to allow me a shot at him. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't have his own protection, and I don't know if I'd even have had the chance of using that spell on him then." Even to Harry's own ears, his voice sounded distant.

"You see? None of that was foretold. The life you have with Ginny now has not been written. You chose to make her part of your life, and she chose you." Dumbledore gave another mighty yawn. "You'll have to excuse me, Harry. With each day that passes, I feel more and more sleepy."

Harry took a step closer to the portrait, the suspicion that if Dumbledore should fall asleep the old man wouldn't wake up again, gnawing at his mind. He wondered what would happen if he were to reach out and touch it. Would Dumbledore feel human? Tangible? Or would he simply be flat: oil and pigment on canvas? 

"I never did get a chance to say goodbye, sir." Harry had to force the words around the lump that had formed in his throat. "When I came upon Voldemort, you were already gone. Then I was out for several days, and after that I wasn't up to much."

"This past year can't have been easy for you, Harry. There's been much to celebrate in Voldemort's defeat, but there's been much to mourn as well."

"People seem to want to concentrate on the celebrations and forget about the rest," Harry said bitterly.

"That tends to be the way of it, on the surface, at least. I've found that people prefer to do their celebrating in public and keep the mourning private."

Harry nodded, even as he asked himself if he'd ever properly mourn his former headmaster's passing. The lump in his throat swelled uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid I shall have to say goodbye now, Harry. It's been an honour to know you. Just remember, you are worthy of all you receive. Don't begrudge people's need to thank you, but don't stop being your humble self."

"Wait," Harry cried. "I need to say thank you for all you've done for me. You've taught me so much."

"As I said, Harry, it's been an honour. It's also been my pleasure."  


"Will I ever see you again? You or Fawkes?"

"I imagine you'll be seeing Fawkes again when you least expect it. He's with a guardian. As for me, you may indeed. We may meet again in the next great adventure."

Even as Harry whispered a last goodbye, the old man fell asleep. Harry didn't know long how long he stood there, staring at the portrait while tears slipped out silently, and he thought about the times he'd spent in this room with Professor Dumbledore. At length, he realised that Ginny and Professor McGonagall would be coming back sooner or later, and he tried to compose himself. It wasn't easy.

He'd managed to wipe his tears with his sleeve, but he knew his eyes would still be red, when the door to the office opened and Professor McGonagall came in. "We've finished, Mr…" she began, trailing off once she'd got a good look at him. "Is anything the matter?" she asked more gently.

Harry took a shaky breath. "I was talking to Professor Dumbledore's portrait, and he fell asleep. I don't think he'll be waking again." His voice sounded oddly husky.

"Oh dear, I should have expected that," she replied. Then she turned suddenly, bowing her head, and Harry was sure she was dabbing at her eyes. "If you'll excuse me. You may leave whenever you're ready."

The headmistress walked out, leaving Harry alone with Ginny. Harry wasn't ready to leave quite yet, and Ginny seemed to understand. She didn't say a word to him, but he felt her slip her arms around his waist and lay her cheek against the back of his shoulder. Harry placed his hands over hers, as he continued to stare at the portrait and remember.

*

Mrs Weasley invited Harry to stay to supper that evening, but he declined. He and Ginny had completed their errands, but Harry had felt distracted most of the afternoon. He felt he needed to be alone to think about what had happened at Hogwarts, and perhaps have a talk with Remus and Sirius. They had far more bitter experience with this sort of thing than he did.

He felt much better about things the next day. He'd been very fortunate, he realised now, to have the opportunity to say goodbye to Dumbledore face to face, in a sense. He'd missed his chance a year ago, and he hadn't really expected to get another.

Harry went back to The Burrow after supper on Thursday evening, and asked Ginny to take a walk with him. He was going to see her the following day on her birthday, of course, but he needed reason to pick up a few things, and this seemed as good an excuse as any.

"Did you get your things out of the house?" he asked, when Ginny had got into her cloak and closed the kitchen door behind her.

"Yeah, it's all packed in a couple of bags in Dad's shed. I hid them in that old washing machine."

"I'll pick them up on my way home, then," Harry replied, taking her hand and starting off with her through the orchard.

They kept going until they were well out of sight of the house and almost at the end of the Weasleys' property. The landscape had changed from when they had stood on this spot last winter, the harsh whites and greys softening to the warmer greens and yellows of spring. The fields on the other side of the hedge were dotted with wildflowers, which stood out in bright contrast to the new grass, caught as they were in the level rays of the setting sun.

They both stopped at the same time, not needing words to communicate what each wanted to do next. Harry pulled Ginny into his arms and began to kiss her softly. He intended to keep things light -- this was the last night of waiting, he reminded himself -- but as his heart rate increased, a roaring in his ears began to drown out his reason. Instinct began to take over, and their kisses became more intense.

Harry broke off for just a moment, realising he had somehow pressed Ginny up against a tree. He stared into her darkened eyes for a moment, taking in her parted, swollen lips, and her breath that came out in short puffs.

He wanted her. God help him, he wanted her.

He bent to her again, and she met him half-way meeting his lips with equal enthusiasm. Her hands were underneath his cloak, and he felt her pulling at his shirt tail. She wanted to touch bare skin. So did he.

Not breaking the kiss, he brought his hands up between them, deliberately skimming over the curves under her cloak until he was caressing the softness of her neck. He could feel the flutter of a wildly beating pulse, and she tilted her head back against the tree. He let his lips slide from hers to trace along the underside of her jaw, while he continued to touch her lightly.

She sagged against him, a low moan coming from the back of her throat. Her hands had worked their way beneath his shirt, and he felt her nails dig into his back as she clutched at him for support. Heat spiked through him, and he pushed closer to her, allowing her to feel the full extent of his need. Not caring if she did.

One hand slid down her neck to the top button of her shirt.

"Harry…"

The way she'd breathed his name only served to encourage him, but he was having trouble concentrating. His brain didn't seem to be working properly, and one tiny button became a struggle.

"Harry…"

Somehow his bemused mind registered she'd sounded more insistent that time. He raised his head, but did not drop his hands. "What?" Even as he asked the question, he ran his thumb along her neck down to her collar bone and was rewarded by a shiver.

"We have to stop."

"Why?"

"Do you really want to do this outside? It isn't exactly warm out here."

"We don't have to do everything… Just a little…"

"That's the problem. I don't want to do just a little. I want everything. But not out here. Not like this. We've had to wait so long as it is. This has to be special. Tomorrow it will be. It's only one more night, Harry. It's not going to hurt you to wait one more night."

He knew she was right, but the way his body was protesting at the moment was nearly impossible to ignore. "It _does_ hurt at the moment." He knew he sounded desperate, but he didn't care. He also couldn't stop himself from pressing his hips against her. "It's so difficult. I don't think I can ever get enough of you."

Ginny's eyes glinted dangerously at him, and she pushed at his chest. "If that's the way you want it, _fine_." Her hands were on the fastenings of her cloak.

"Ginny, what are you doing?"

"I'm doing what you want. You said you wanted it, so all right. Let's do it."

"Ginny…"

"What's your problem? Can't you make up your mind?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. As much as he wanted her, he knew she was right. They really couldn't just lie down on the ground and… "I don't want to _do it_, I want to make love to you. You're right. I got carried away."

He didn't expect the tears that began to leak from her eyes. He looked at her in shock and panic for a moment, before opening his arms to her. She came into them willingly, and he stroked her hair for a few minutes.

"Ginny, what's wrong? You've been preoccupied for a while now. Do you…" He was having difficulty getting the words out. He stepped back hoping to find a clue in her eyes to what she was feeling, but he saw nothing except confusion and fear written there. "Do you want to cancel tomorrow? Is that what this is about?"

"No… I don't know… Sometimes I think we're too young. It's scary."

"I get scared, too, but I'm not scared of you. Are you scared of me?"

"Perhaps you should be," she said smiling wanly through her tears. "I blew up Zonko's single-handedly and defied a goddess." At the moment she didn't look the least bit intimidating.

"Ginny, tell me what the real problem is, please? You said yesterday you wanted to ask me something. Do you think you can ask it now?"

"I have to. I have to ask you this before tomorrow."

Harry's heart began to beat wildly as a sickening fear rose in him that she was about to ask him to cancel their plans for the next day. But it was better to know now… "So ask me. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

He felt her take a deep breath. "I have to know… When I say I love you, do you believe me?"

He smiled in relief. He'd been expecting something much more dire. "Of course I do."

"No, Harry, I want you to think about it. Not just give me an automatic reply."

"What's there to think about? I love you, and you… You still love me, don't you?" His fear was coming back, but it was best to know.

"Yes, I do, but I need to know if you believe that, deep down inside."

He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not sure how to answer that, but I'm getting the feeling if I say the wrong thing, something terrible will happen."

"I just need to know your honest answer, and I want you to think about it."

Harry took another step back and looked into the trees beyond her, back in the direction of The Burrow, although the house was out of sight. It wasn't so much that he didn't believe her, it was more that he didn't understand _why_ she loved him. He thought of his conversation with Dumbledore yesterday. _Had _it been preordained after all?

He knew Dumbledore would have told him no, that Ginny hadn't even been meant to survive this long, but Dumbledore didn't know everything. An image of the Lover's Card came to his mind, and he remembered Parvati reading his tarot cards at the beginning of seventh year. That had been predicted long after Dumbledore's seer.

But Harry had already begun to have feelings for Ginny before school had started, another part of him argued. He'd already made his choice. And it wasn't as if their relationship had run smoothly up to this point. They'd broken up and been separated. If they were still together in spite of all that, it had to be because they were truly committed to each other. He'd never acted to repair their relationship with the thought in the back of his mind that Ginny was his one shot at love because the cards had said so.

He looked back into her face. She looked terrified. "It's not that I don't believe you love me, because I do. I know it. I feel it. I _know_ you love me. I just don't know _why_. I know why you're asking. In the past I didn't believe it, but I was a fool and I almost lost you because of that. I'm sorry for that. I thought you'd left and it shook my faith, because if I had believed deep down that you loved me, I'd have known that you'd never truly leave me. You'd be right if you were angry with me because I doubted you. I kept _telling_ myself you'd never leave, but then I found you'd never gone back to school, and I just couldn't make myself believe it anymore. I was wrong, and I know that now. And if you feel we shouldn't be together because I doubted you, I'll understand. But I won't lie to you. It would kill me…"

"_Stop_, Harry. You're doing it again. You don't believe you're worthy."

"I can't help it, Ginny, but just because I don't think I'm worthy, doesn't mean I don't know you love me. I know you do, and I hope you know that I love you. Maybe if I had been raised in a family like yours or by my real parents, things would be different…"

"I just want you to know that _I_ think you're worthy of my love. I've chosen you. Can you accept that?"

Harry stared. She'd _chosen_. As he had. 

"Yes," he said at length. "If you think I'm worthy, then I must be. Because you wouldn't lie to me about that, and you're the cleverest woman I've ever met."

Ginny gave a small laugh. "I'm not cleverer than Hermione."

"She's clever about facts and things like that, but she's not always clever about feelings, is she? That's where you have her beat. She can't read people the way you can. And when you do something, it's out of love, not because you want to prove a point."

Ginny sank back into his arms. "You know," she murmured against his shoulder, "for years I thought you'd never notice me. I wondered if there would be a time I'd be worthy of your notice. And now you don't feel you're worthy of me. It's strange…"

"But you are, Ginny. You _are _worthy of love. Why wouldn't you be?"

"And that's just how I feel about you."

"Perhaps one day I'll understand. We'll get through it. We've been through so much together, there's no way we _won't_ get through this as well."

They held each other a while longer until it was fully dark, and a few stars shone overhead, winking among the tree branches. At one point, Ginny turned to him and began to kiss him gently. Harry followed her lead, keeping a tight rein on his passion this time. If things got out of control again, he knew she'd stop them once more, and while it could be torture at times, he still wanted the closeness and affection with her.

Her hands found their way beneath his shirt tail once more, as she sought to bring them closer together. Harry had to fight to keep his hands still. They wanted to become mobile as hers now were, but he wanted to experience soft curves, not the flat plane of her back.

His hands clenched into fists when her lips left his to trail gently over his cheeks and on to his throat. An involuntary noise issued from his throat, but it only served to encourage her. He felt her teeth graze his skin, as she sucked a patch of it into her mouth.

He pressed his hips against her. He couldn't help it. It was a reflex. At the same time his arms tightened around her. He didn't really want to hold her still, but it was better for his sanity if she was.

Ginny seemed to realise they'd reached the limit once more, and she pulled back. Even in the faint starlight he could see the promise in her eyes. "Tomorrow," she whispered. It was time to go back. 

Harry kissed Ginny goodnight outside the kitchen door. "I'll come by for you in the afternoon," he said just before she went in.

She gave him a smile and was gone. Harry turned towards the shed, thankful it was dark. He didn't know what sort of excuse he would have used if Mr Weasley had decided to tinker with something tonight. He felt his way inside until he encountered a large metallic object. Lifting the cover, he found a large, soft-sided bag, along with what felt like a worn leather book bag. Feeling around to make sure he'd retrieved everything, he hoisted the larger bag behind his shoulder and tucked the smaller one under his arm, before activating his Portkey and returning to Sirius'. 

He opened the front door quietly, hoping to pass unnoticed so he could stash Ginny's things in his room. Luck wasn't with him. Sirius was standing in the kitchen in full view of the front door as Harry came in.

"Harry," Sirius said crossing over to the entryway, "let me help you with that." Sirius made to take the smaller bag from Harry.

"No, that's all right," Harry said quickly. "I've got it." He wanted nothing more than to escape before Sirius started asking too many questions.

"Well, come into the kitchen. We've just put the kettle on." Sirius' tone was light, but Harry wasn't fooled for a moment.

"Just let me drop this off, and I'll be right there," he replied, striving to keep his own tone equally light.

"Nonsense, Harry. Just bring that along." Sirius had laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and was steering him quite forcibly towards the kitchen. Harry had no choice but to follow with his bags.

"Hello," he greeted Remus, who was already seated at the table. The werewolf looked haggard, a testament to his upcoming transformation the following evening.

Harry draped the larger bag over the back of the chair, noticing for the first time the printing across it that proclaimed it as coming from Madam Malkin's shop. He put Ginny's school bag on the floor beside him. 

Sirius looked at him curiously. "Have you been doing some shopping?" he asked, eyeing the bag. "You seem to have been running a lot of errands lately."

"Oh, yeah," replied Harry, trying to sound casual. "I've had lots to look into with the new broom and all."

"And you needed new robes for that?" asked Remus.

"Work robes," Harry answered.

At that moment the tea kettle began to whistle. "Harry, can you get that, please?" said Remus. Harry was closest to the stove. "And get yourself a cup."

Harry reluctantly got to his feet. The two older men were obviously suspicious about his comings and goings of late. He didn't particularly want to turn his back to them, but he had no choice if he wanted to pick up the kettle without risking burning himself. As he was pouring the hot water into the teapot, he heard the sound he'd been dreading. It was the unmistakable noise produced by a zipper being undone.

"Erm, nice work robes, Harry," came Remus' voice.

Harry didn't want to turn around, but he had no choice now. He knew they'd seen what was in the larger bag. But when he did pick up the teapot and turn, he saw something worse. Sirius had reached into Ginny's school bag and produced something very white and lacy and… sheer. Harry swallowed.

"Harry," Sirius said, his voice deceptively calm, "was there anything you wanted to tell us? Because I really don't think this is your colour."

"No," put in Remus, "you'd look downright pasty in that. Off-white would be a better choice for you. Or peach. I could see you in peach."

Harry wished he could crumple up and die on the spot, but his godfather wasn't done yet. He was reaching into the bag once more. "Now this…" He'd pulled out the green night dress that Ginny had worn the night of the Ball. "Something like this is more your colour."

"Yes," added Remus. "Now that one goes with your eyes."

Sirius put the night dresses down, draping them over the chair with the bag containing Ginny's dress robes, where Harry would be obliged to stare at them. He still hadn't said a word. Remus, in the meantime, was reaching for a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky on a shelf behind him. He poured a healthy measure into the three teacups on the table and looked at Harry expectantly. Harry had forgotten he was still holding the teapot.

"Now," began Sirius, when Harry had poured tea into the waiting cups, "let's have a talk. What's been going on?"

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out. His face was burning and he knew he had to look very guilty.

It was Remus who saved him from having to reply. "I don't know. I think it looks pretty obvious. Isn't tomorrow Ginny's birthday?"

Harry nodded.

"I see," said Sirius, "and you made some special plans for a celebration?"

Harry nodded again.

"What were you going to do, Harry, stay out all night and make us worry?" Before Harry could reply, Sirius burst out laughing. "So, Harry," he went on once he'd mastered himself, "is there any sort of advice we can give you? Do we need to have a _talk_ with you?" He sounded altogether too gleeful at the prospect. "Remus, do you think he needs to have a talk?"

Remus made a great show of considering the situation. "I don't know. I'm sure he's had one already. But another one couldn't hurt could it?"

"Actually," Harry hastened to point out, "I _have _already had one."

"Hmm, by the looks of that mark on your neck, I'd say you have," commented Remus.

Harry turned even redder at that and placed his hand over the spot where Ginny had bit him earlier. Sirius grabbed Harry's wrist so he could get a closer look. "Just who gave you this talk?" he asked with mock suspicion.

"Mr Weasley," Harry mumbled.

Sirius gaped for a moment. "I'm sorry. I must not have heard you right. For a moment I thought you said Mr Weasley."

Remus snorted into his tea. "I did!" Harry insisted. "And I don't see what's so funny…"  


It was of no use. Sirius was doubled over in his chair laughing. 

"If you're finished making fun of me, I think I'll be going now," said Harry, beginning to get out of his chair.

Sirius got his laughter under control rather quickly and grabbed Harry's arm to make him sit down again. "Now just hold on. I don't think Arthur gave you the sort of practical information we can."

"I don't know, Sirius," said Remus. "The man does have seven children."

"Yes, but he isn't likely to give pointers that are going to be practised on his only daughter, now, is he?"

Harry slumped down in his seat and took a large gulp of whisky-laced tea. It was going to be a long evening.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Thanks go once again to Jo for the beta. She keeps me on my toes. Also thanks to everyone who continues to review. I think you ought to get the next chapter in a week.

Normally I reply to reviewers in review threads or by email but things have been hectic, so I'll do it here.

****

Struwwelfranz: Your point was well taken, but I'm afraid I don't want to drag this story out any longer than it already is, so you're going to have to take Ginny's outburst in the last chapter as indicating she's going to have to go through an adjustment as well. I don't think I can show every instance of her going through the process. Also I don't think she'd react with rage on every occasion. She'd be more likely to be in the middle of a mundane chore she used to perform with magic and burst into tears. You also have to remember that she's got Harry, and he knows better than anyone what she's going through. I'm not saying she'll have an easy time of it, but she's also going to have a different reaction because she's female, because she's a different person than Harry and because she's had a supportive family around her all her life. I think she'll be more willing to accept other's support for this reason.

I've had another enquiry about Mrs Mutt's favourite word. I think I addressed this in another author's note, but here goes again. I can't use it in the story itself without affecting the rating, I'm afraid. Marian posted a hint to what it is on the Gryffindor Tower boards in my review thread. If you missed it, it's a four-letter word beginning with F followed by wit.

Someone (sorry, can't remember who at the moment, although I know it was on Sugar Quill) asked about Harry and Ginny being able to see Hogwarts now. I think they still can. For one thing, you have to remember that Harry has called himself a Muggle: it doesn't mean he's right about that. Both he and Ginny are wizard and witch; they've just had their powers taken. Plus the way magic seems to work in the HP universe depends a lot on your belief in it. Harry had to believe he could do the Summoning Charm before he did it. His Patronus was similar: he made a good one at the end of POA because he knew _he could. In the case of Hogwarts, they both know it's there and they know what it's supposed to look like. Therefore I think they can see it._


	28. Chapter 27

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The Long Road Home, Chapter Twenty Seven

"You're late."

Harry stared at Ginny for a moment in panic, trying to ascertain her mood. He knew very well he was late, but that wasn't entirely his fault. Judging by the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes, she wasn't so much put out with him, as she was scared. He wasn't sure he blamed her. He felt rather scared himself.

"I'm sorry about that. I got up later than I planned this morning. And I had a few last minute details to take care of."

"You got up late? Did you have trouble sleeping?" From the sound of things, it had been Ginny herself who had had difficulty dropping off last night.

"No, actually. I just got to bed late…" He broke off, not wanting to have to explain the reason why, but Ginny didn't let him off the hook.

"What happened?"

"Remus and Sirius ambushed me when I came home last night."

Ginny's eyes widened in fear. "What did you tell them?"

"As little as possible, but they know about part of our plans. They, erm… Well, they suspected something was going on, and they, uh… They took it upon themselves to inspect the contents of your bag."

"They didn't! That was rude of them!"

"They didn't _know_ it was your bag. I told them they were my things. And, well… I had to let them think we had some special plans for the evening. Which we do, of course. And then they decided they'd better have a talk with me… Do you, erm, have anything for a headache by any chance?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "Before we got through talking, we emptied a bottle of Ogden's," Harry admitted.

"You've got a hangover?"

"Just a bit. Sirius and Remus had more to drink than I did."

"Well, come on. We have to make a good show of this, anyway."

Ginny took his hand and pulled him into The Burrow's living room. Harry had felt distinctly odd about knocking at the front door, when he was used to simply appearing in the kitchen, but he didn't think that would have counted. She'd laid down some specific guidelines for the date he owed her, and he'd tried to adhere to them as well as he could.

"Mum," Ginny called out, "Harry's here."

Mrs Weasley came in from the kitchen. "Hello, dear." She greeted him with a smile, while Ginny left the room for a moment.

Harry smiled weakly at Mrs Weasley, realising that he still had the bouquet of wildflowers that he'd brought Ginny in his hand. He'd forgotten to give them to her.

"Harry dear, what lovely flowers," Mrs Weasley commented. He'd managed to get something that reminded him of the spring flowers in the fields adjoining the Weasleys' property. "And is that chocolate?" She'd spied the brightly wrapped box Harry was holding along with the flowers.

"Erm, yes," said Harry, hoping Ginny would come back quickly with the potion.

"So what were the two of you planning on doing tonight?"

"We were just going out for dinner and things."

"Things?" Mrs Weasley said, raising an eyebrow. "What sort of things?"

Harry resisted the urge to run a finger between his neck and collar. The room suddenly seemed unbearably hot. "Oh, you know, first date things." Yes, that was perfect. "Did Ginny tell you this was our first date?"

"Oh yes," Mrs Weasley replied with a chuckle. "I think it's sweet. I see you've kept up your part of the bargain."

"What… just what did Ginny tell you?"

"Oh, just that she wanted flowers and chocolate and for you to meet her parents. But I'm afraid you're stuck with me. Arthur is still at work. Unless you'd like to wait for him to come home, that is." There was a glint in Mrs Weasley's eye, and Harry couldn't escape the suspicion she was enjoying this.

"NO! Er, sorry, I mean, no, thank you, that's quite all right. I mean we've already met, haven't we? And Ginny and I have reservations at the… the…" He couldn't exactly say where they had reservations or Mrs Weasley might become even more suspicious.

"The restaurant?" Mrs Weasley supplied.

"Um, yes, that's it."

"Isn't it a bit early for supper?"

She was right; it was only half past four. "Well, we were going to do some other things first."

Harry cringed as Mrs Weasley raised her eyebrow at him again. "What things? I hope you don't mind me asking. You know Ginny will tell me all about it anyway."

Harry couldn't help looking over the older woman's shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ginny coming back with his potion. He was really beginning to need it. "I… I wanted to surprise her, so I don't really want to say."

"Oh, well isn't that intriguing? Whatever you do, I know you'll behave properly. Now I know Ginny is of age, but don't let her drink too much. I know she insists she's fine, but I don't feel she's fully recovered yet, and I don't think she'll be able to handle too much drink… Are you feeling all right, dear? You look a bit peaked."

"I'm sorry, I've got a bit of a headache." To himself he wondered for the hundredth time where Ginny had got to. Did she have to brew the damned potion herself? It wasn't so advanced it required an incantation, after all. "Ginny's getting me something for it."

"Oh dear. Well perhaps you ought to put this off to another day if you're not feeling well. I'm sure Ginny would understand."

"If it gets too bad, we'll… _I'll_ just go to bed early. We'll call it an early evening, I mean." He could feel himself going red.

"Here, Harry…" Ginny was finally back and was thrusting a glass of potion into his hand. "You know, you look as if your headache has got worse. Mum, could you bring Harry some water?"

"Of course…"

"Now," hissed Ginny when her mother had left the room, "should I dig you out of this hole you seem to have got yourself into or should I leave you here and let Mum finish the job?"

Harry downed the potion and forced a smile onto his face. "Happy Birthday, Ginny," he said, offering her the bouquet. "Now dig me out," he added between his teeth.

"Here's your water, Harry." Mrs Weasley handed him a glass of water and waited expectantly while he drank it. "Now Ginny, if Harry isn't up to this tonight…"

"Oh please, Mum, he'll be just fine. It's his fault for staying up all night drinking with Sirius and Remus!"

Harry didn't think it was possible for him to turn any redder, but apparently he'd been wrong. Mrs Weasley's mouth dropped open while Ginny gave him a rather vengeful smile. He wondered if he knew just what he was getting into.

Ginny grabbed him by the sleeve. "Come on, Harry. You promised me a date."

"Wait a moment, Ginny," Harry got in before she could drag him off. "If this is our first date, I have to give you this."

He held out the box and watched as she tore the paper from it. "Chocolate Frogs, Harry? I said I wanted _my_ favourite chocolates, not yours."

"I've got you something better," Harry muttered to her.

"You'd better," Ginny grated back.

"I do…"

"I'm sorry, what was that, dear?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"Nothing, Mum. Listen, can you put the flowers in water for me and put the chocolate up in my room? We've got to get going."

"Ginny, look at the poor boy. He's all red. Are you sure…"

"He'll be fine, Mum," Ginny insisted. "Believe me, he'll be fine."

"I'm fine, I really am," added Harry.

"We have to be off, Mum. I don't know when we'll be home. Don't wait up, all right?"

"Have a good time."

"Good evening, Mrs Weasley."

Harry let out his breath as soon as they got out the front door. He was reaching into his pocket for his Portkey when Ginny stopped him. "Have you got everything?"

Harry patted the pocket of his shirt. "It's all right here."

"Are you sure that's all of it?"

Harry paused and checked his trousers as well. "Yes, it's all there."

"So where are we really going?"

"Close your eyes, and you'll find out."

Ginny closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him as he activated the Portkey and they began to whirl through space. When they'd landed Ginny looked around.

"Hogsmeade?"

"We weren't quite so lucky with the Three Broomsticks the last time, but since your brother doesn't know anything about it this time, I reckon we're safe."

Harry took her hand, and they went up the High Street to the pub. Harry had already seen the room; he'd been here several times already to store the things they were going to need there. He knew Ginny would be happy with it. Madam Rosmerta had outdone herself, he felt.

Ginny's gasp of delight when he unlocked the door and let her in told him he'd been right about her reaction. The room was much larger than he'd expected, but he'd been judging based on the room Mrs Weasley had reserved for them at Christmas. There was a table already set for a fancy, candlelit supper at one end near a fireplace, where a merry blaze already crackled on the grate. But the greater part of the room was dominated by one of the largest four poster beds Harry had ever seen. It had deep red velvet hangings and its matching damask comforter was scattered with lots of small decorative pillows.

Harry pointed out the large wardrobe in the corner. "I put your dress robes in there, if you want to change into them. There's a bathroom through that door."

Ginny smiled at him, and the sparkle in her eyes told him she was no longer put out with him for being late. She opened the wardrobe and gave a small squeal, before turning with a large bouquet of deep red roses surrounded by baby's breath and greenery in her arms.

"Oh, Harry, they're beautiful."

"There should be eighteen of them there," he said.

"Just like last year."

"Well, with one more, and have another look in the wardrobe."

"What else have you got in there?"

"Have a look. I told you I'd got you something better than Chocolate Frogs."

"Harry… where did you get these?" She'd found the box of imported chocolates now.

"Muggle London. I reckon the Muggles know a thing or two about good chocolates."

She came over to him and threw her arms around him. "It's all perfect."

"It's nothing. You're worth much, much more."

He dipped his head towards her, drawing her closer, and began to kiss her gently. But as it had the night before, reason soon fled and his need for her took over. Suddenly waiting the last few hours seemed like an impossibility. He took a step back towards the bed, and Ginny followed willingly. Another step, and then another.

Suddenly he was falling backwards. Ginny had pushed him onto the bed. He didn't mind. If they weren't going to wait any longer, that was quite all right with him.

He lay there a few moments, finally opening his eyes when he realised that Ginny should have joined him by now. "Wh-" 

He was cut off as his vision was suddenly obscured by a large quantity of crimson fabric: Ginny had flung his dress robes at him.

"I have to get dressed. And you'd do well to get dressed, too. We're late as it is, and this will only make us later. If you hadn't decided to get pissed last night, we might have had time…"

By the time Harry had extricated himself from his dress robes, Ginny had disappeared into the bathroom. He sighed and put his robes on over the dress shirt and trousers he'd worn to The Burrow. Then he went over to the mirror in the wardrobe and tried vainly to make his hair lie flat. Like the day of the Winter Solstice Ball it simply refused to co-operate. He sighed again and for some reason thought of the picture of his parents' wedding day. His father's hair hadn't been any more amenable. 

Harry sat back down on the bed, resisting the urge to pace. For someone who had insisted that they were late, Ginny was certainly taking her time about getting ready. Of course, he reminded himself, with her it wasn't a case of simply putting an extra set of robes on over her regular clothes. No doubt she would fuss with her hair; perhaps she'd wear it up as she had the night of the ball.

He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes as he conjured a mental picture of Ginny descending the marble staircase to the entrance hall. She'd looked so beautiful that night with her hair piled on top of her head with the random wisps curling about her face and neck. He thought about the way those curls seemed to frame her face and tickle her skin, inviting him to soothe it with his lips. The idea caused his entire body to react, and he wondered once again how he was going to manage to survive the next few hours.

He lay a while longer, trying to think of something less…stimulating, but it was difficult, when he remembered that Ginny was in the next room, changing into that dress that she looked so damned sexy in… That was it. If he couldn't stop this, he was going to die of frustration.

The door to the bathroom opened at last, and Harry wondered for a moment if looking was even a good idea at this point. He was going to have to, though, or they'd never get out of here. He sat up and opened his eyes. She looked every bit as beautiful as she had at the ball, perhaps even more so. Her hair was much more understated this time, pulled back into a sleek knot. Harry imagined she'd resorted to magic the last time to achieve the more complicated look. Or she'd had someone help her.

She looked down a bit self-consciously under Harry's scrutiny. He wondered if she was nervous. He'd thought so earlier. His own stomach felt rather fluttery. What they were about to undertake suddenly seemed intimidating to say the least.

He took a deep breath. "Are you ready?"

She looked scared for a moment, before her expression hardened into resolve. "Yes, let's go."

Harry handed Ginny her cloak. It might have been almost May, but it was definitely too chilly to go out bare-shouldered. Their fingers brushed as he passed the cloak over, and Harry had a fleeting impression of trembling. In the next second, he wondered if he'd imagined it. She put the cloak on and picked up her bouquet of roses, hiding the bright blooms beneath the rich green cashmere.

With a final check of his pockets, Harry picked up his own cloak and followed Ginny out the door of their room. It was Friday evening, and the common room of the inn was fairly busy. Madam Rosmerta was occupied at the bar, and they were able to slip out undetected.

"What time were we supposed to be there?" Ginny asked once they had reached the street.

"Five," replied Harry. "We're not that late… I don't think it should be a problem."

Harry took her hand and they ducked around the corner of the Three Broomsticks, heading down the narrow way between the inn and the neighbouring building. There were puddles in the alley, a testament to the rain that had fallen at some point during the day, and they had to step carefully to avoid soiling their robes. The sun had come out and was shining now as it descended towards the hilly western horizon.

They came out from between the buildings, a fence which surrounded the back of the Three Broomsticks' lot on their right. The alley tuned into a narrow path beyond the fence, a path which led to a small cottage set away from the rest of the village. It was old and rather unkempt, and there was laundry flapping in the breeze behind the house. Harry reddened and looked away, as he realised he was seeing a lot of women's undergarments on the clothesline, but his brain had time to register a flowered night dress that was somehow familiar to him. He shook his head to clear it. It had to be nerves…

Harry went up to the front door and knocked. It was opened presently by an elderly woman, whose blue eyes twinkled kindly at him as she smiled in greeting. "Good evening. Come in, we've been expecting you."

"Sorry, we're a bit late," Harry apologised.

"Think nothing of it, my boy. It's perfectly understandable. I'm Mrs Gale. Mr Gale is waiting for you in the lounge. May I take your cloaks?"

They handed their cloaks to the woman, and then Harry took a firmer hold of Ginny's hand and followed Mrs Gale into the lounge. He barely noticed Mrs Mutt and Badon Hill sitting in armchairs waiting for him. His eyes were riveted on Mr Gale. Now he knew where he'd seen that flowered night dress before… He was overcome by a sudden, uncontrollable fit of laughter, and his shoulders began to shake noticeably as he tried to suppress it.

Introductions were being made; Mrs Mutt and Hill were saying hello, and Harry knew that common courtesy dictated that he reply, but he couldn't at the moment. He was too afraid to open his mouth lest a bark of laughter escape. He could feel his cheeks heating. His breath came out in a burst as Ginny's elbow struck his ribs.

Vaguely, he registered her saying, "Excuse us," to the rest of the room, before she grabbed his hand and dragged him forcibly into the entry hall.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she hissed at him, her brown eyes flashing dangerously.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to bring his voice under control. "I'm sorry, Ginny. It's just… Just…" Laughter was threatening once again. 

Ginny crossed her arms and looked expectant. "Listen, if you're not going to take this seriously, we can forget the whole thing, and you can take me back home."

Harry immediately sobered. "Do you know who that is?" 

"It's Mr Gale," Ginny said evenly. "But really…"

"No, it's _Archie_." Harry had to fight to keep his voice from carrying into the lounge.

"Archie?"

"Do you remember the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Of course I do, but what has that got…"

"Did Ron ever tell you what happened when he, Hermione and I went for water to make tea?"

Ginny thought for a moment. "No, I don't think he ever did."

"Well, we were waiting in the queue for our turn at the tap, and there was this older bloke wearing a night dress. A wizard from the Ministry was trying to convince him to put on some trousers, but he refused. He said it was because he liked a healthy breeze about his privates." Harry had dropped his voice to the barest of whispers.

Ginny's eyes went round. "He didn't! And that's him in there?"

Harry nodded, and Ginny's own shoulders began to shake. "How… how…" But she couldn't go on.

"I had no idea. Honestly, I didn't. Now that I think about it, the Ministry wizard was awfully familiar with him, but I had no idea we'd be seeing him today. All Mrs Mutt would tell me is there was a retired wizard from the Department of Magical Catastrophes who lived in Hogsmeade, and who was qualified…"

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "Department of Magical Catastrophes?"

"I know… Look if this is too… bizarre, we can cancel."

"Oh no you don't, Harry Potter. You're not getting out of this so easily."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. "Are we ready then? Can we get through this without laughing ourselves silly?"

"Yes."

"Let's go then."

He squeezed her hand and they went back into the lounge, greeting the others properly this time and excusing themselves for so rudely rushing out of the room. Mrs Mutt laughed it off. "It's quite understandable if you're having a few last minute worries," she commented.

The room was furnished in an old-fashioned style with lots of dark woodwork and lace doilies on the backs of the armchairs. When the small talk was over with, Archie Gale told Harry and Ginny to stand before him. 

"Now," Archie said, "before we begin, have you got your documentation?"

"Erm, yes," Harry replied, reaching beneath his robes and removing a parchment from his shirt pocket. "Here you are." 

He handed the parchment to Archie who examined it closely for a few moments. "Yes, everything seems to be in order here." He laid the parchment aside on a small table. "Have you got everything else?"

"Yes," replied Harry.

"All right, then we can begin."

Archie moved over to a bookcase and removed a thick tome bound in cracked, nut-brown leather. He opened the book and laid it on the table beside him, where he could consult it. Harry craned his neck and saw that it looked to be an illuminated manuscript, but he didn't recognise the alphabet. The letters were runic.

He asked Harry and Ginny to join hands, and Ginny took the lead, handing her roses to Mrs Mutt before taking Harry's right hand in her right and his left in her left so that their joined hands crossed between them. Then Archie held up his wand and began to recite a series of incantations. They seemed to be in Latin, and Harry felt like he ought to be able to recognise some of the words, but he'd never heard anything like this before.

  
As Archie's voice droned on, Harry felt himself compelled to look into Ginny's eyes. She was looking back at him just as steadily, and he couldn't break the gaze. At the same time there seemed to be a tingling feeling radiating into him from their clasped hands. It coursed through his entire body, warming and comforting him. Somehow he knew that if he tried to break his grip on her, he wouldn't be able to. But he didn't want to. He'd had no idea this would be so pleasant.

There was a glimmer in the air around them now, a golden light suffused the room. At first it was gentle, shimmering slightly like the material of Ginny's dress robes in soft candlelight, but it kept on growing in intensity until Harry had no choice but to close his eyes. Ginny had done the same, but their hands remained connected.

Suddenly the light went out, and Harry opened his eyes again. The tingling feeling was gone now, as well, and he felt he could move his hands if he chose to do so. But he maintained contact with Ginny.

"That was quite impressive." Archie's awed voice broke the reverent silence in the room. "I believe it's safe to say we can continue the ritual. I must first ask you some questions, to which you must reply with complete honesty. Have you both come here of your own free will today?"

"Yes." Harry and Ginny replied at the same time.

"Is there any reason which might prevent us from proceeding further today?"

"No." Again they replied as one.

"Then I will ask you to repeat after me." 

He turned to address Ginny first, and repeating after him, Ginny made her vows. 

"You cannot possess me for I belong to myself, but while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person, but I shall serve you in those ways you require, and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand. I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night and the eyes into which I smile in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite of my meat and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back and you for mine. I shall not slander you, nor you me. I shall honour you above all others, and when we quarrel we shall do so in private and tell no strangers our grievances. This is my wedding vow to you. This is the marriage of equals." 

Harry was amazed at how strong and steadfast her voice sounded as she spoke the words. His own throat felt tight, and he wondered how he was going to get his own vows out when his turn came. 

He wasn't sure how, but he managed, and then Archie asked him for the rings. Reluctantly, Harry released Ginny's hand so he could reach into his pocket and produced the golden bands bedecked with runes of love and happiness that they had chosen. Archie laid them on his open palm, and waved his wand over them, muttering yet another incantation. A thin wisp of silvery smoke came from the end of his wand, swirling through the air around the rings and snaking its way through them, connecting the two and twisting on itself. Beside him, Ginny let out a gasp of surprise. The wisp of smoke, when it came to a stop, had formed a figure eight set on its side.

When the smoke had disappeared, Archie held out his hand to Harry, who took Ginny's ring. Following Archie's instructions, Harry slipped the ring onto her finger, repeating, "With this ring, I give you my promise that from this day forward you shall not walk alone. May my heart be your shelter and my arms be your home. May we walk together through all things. With this ring, I give you my heart. I have no greater gift to give. I promise I shall do my best. I shall always try. I feel so honoured to call you my life."

Then Ginny repeated the same words, setting Harry's ring on his finger. When she'd finished he caught her fingers in his and enlaced them. Then Archie stood before them and repeated a final blessing on the pair of them.

"Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years. May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth. 

"Treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship - as they threaten all relationships at one time or another - remember to focus on what is right between you, not only the part which seems wrong. In this way, you can ride out the storms when clouds hide the face of the sun in your lives - remembering that even if you lose sight of it for a moment, the sun is still there. And if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight." 

Harry let the words sink into him, and he wondered if he was up to all that. He'd have to be, he told himself. Ginny was worth it. She was watching him now, seemingly expectant. Harry had never so much as witnessed a wedding before -- the Dursleys had certainly never taken him to one, and he'd not been allowed to attend Percy's wedding -- but it appeared that Ginny was waiting for him to do something.

"Aren't you going to kiss her, dear?" Mrs Mutt asked, sounding more amused then was strictly polite, Harry felt.

He felt the back of his neck go hot, but he leaned in and placed his lips on Ginny's. He'd intended to kiss her quickly, feeling rather self-conscious in front of his former boss and co-worker, not to mention Archie. But Ginny put her arms around his waist and pulled him close, giving him quite a bit more than he'd bargained for. It somehow struck Harry as being a good omen.

They broke apart, and suddenly Hill was clapping Harry on the back in congratulations, while Mrs Mutt gave Ginny a peck on the cheek. Then the old lady shook Harry's hand. It seemed to him as if her eyes were brighter than usual.

"I didn't expect you to come to the ceremony today, and I certainly never thought to see Mr Hill."

"Nonsense, dear," replied Mrs Mutt. "When you asked me to help you get the necessary papers to plan all this, I knew you were going to need witnesses. Would you rather I'd brought your old friend St John?"

Harry leaned closer and asked conspiratorially, "Isn't he still, um, inconvenienced?"

"Unfortunately no. He turned up at work again the next day. I didn't make that spell last long enough."

"I don't know how I can ever thank you for all you've done for us today, Mrs Mutt."

"Don't worry about it, dear. Just be happy."

Harry smiled at the old woman, and then surprised them both when he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

"Wasn't the point of today to eliminate my competition?" Ginny remarked dryly. Mrs Mutt's cheeks had gone rather pink.

"What competition?" asked Harry with a grin. "I don't see any competition." And he proved his point by taking her into his arms and kissing her soundly on the lips.

After a final round of congratulations and thanks, Harry paid Archie and he and Ginny returned to the Three Broomsticks. Harry paused outside the door to their room to draw Ginny into an intense embrace, and he soon found himself wishing he hadn't bothered to order them supper. Ginny responded to him with equal passion, and suddenly he couldn't get the door to their room opened fast enough. Harry pulled back and rested his forehead against Ginny's. "I love you," he whispered, bringing up a hand to touch her cheek.

Ginny tightened her arms around his waist. "I love you, too."

It took Harry a few attempts, but he finally got the door open. Pushing on into their room, he saw that someone had been in to serve their supper. There were two sliver domes covering plates on the table, as well as a tray of what looked like hors d'oeuvres. There was also a large silver ice bucket with a bottle of champagne chilling in it. Standing against the domes, Harry could see a piece of heavy parchment with writing on it.

He went over and picked it up, trying to make out the fancy lettering. The words he read reminded him of the menus from which they had ordered at the Winter Solstice Ball.

__

~ Menu ~

Huîtres à la marinade de cresson

Salade printanière dans sa vinaigrette à l'aneth

Roulades de poulet au légumes dans sa marinade

Risotto garni au persil

Haricots verts amandines à la julienne

Fraises au chocolat

Champagne

Harry blinked but the words didn't make any more sense to him. He showed the parchment to Ginny. "Have you got any idea what any of this is?" he asked.

"Erm… well, yeah. Champagne. And something that looks like salad, and something that looks like chocolate."

"Great. I'd already worked out that much for myself."

"I guess we'll just have to try things and see if we like them."

Harry picked up a shell from the hors d'oeuvre tray. It contained something that looked slimy and gelatinous. "I don't know what this is, but I don't think I want to know," he commented.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "No, I don't think I want to either."

"Perhaps they look more appetising after a few glasses of champagne," Harry added, reaching for the bottle.

"Do you know how to open that?"

"Well, I never have before, but how difficult can it be?"

He was undoing the gold foil wrapping around the bottle's neck. There was a sort of cage of wire covering the cork, and Harry wasn't too sure what to do about it for a moment. Then he worked out that he could loosen the wire. He did so, but the cork still remained stubbornly in place. He tried pulling at it, but that didn't seem to do much good. Then he got the idea of bracing the bottle between his knees and pushing at the cork with this thumbs. That seemed to work a bit better. The cork actually moved. He kept at it until…

POP!

The cork shot out of the end of the bottle followed by a fountain of bubbling liquid, dousing the front of Harry's robes and part of the carpet. Irritated, he pulled off his glasses and looked for a dry spot on his robes to clean off the lenses. He couldn't find one.

He glanced over at Ginny and saw she was clamping her lips shut, suppressing a fit of laughter. 

"Excuse me." Harry set down the bottle and went into the bathroom. He had no choice but to take off his dress robes now, before the champagne soaked through to his shirt and trousers. He managed to get his glasses cleaned and splashed some water on his face before returning to the room and hanging his robes in the wardrobe. Ginny had poured out two glasses of champagne.

She handed him a glass, meeting his eyes. He took it from her, and she touched her own glass to his. "To us," she whispered.

"To us," Harry repeated, and took a long sip. The bubbles tingled on his tongue and tickled his nose. Ginny was still looking into his eyes, her gaze intensifying, and Harry felt his insides go fluttery again. He took another gulp of champagne and swallowed hard. Suddenly he felt a lot less sure of himself. He took third swig and realised his glass was empty already.

Ginny laughed at him. "Careful, you're not even going to make it through supper at that rate."

"I'm not completely sure I want to, since I don't even know what I'm supposed to be eating."

"Well, we know we're guaranteed salad and chocolate. That's something."

"I'll be starving by morning if that's all I have. I…" He broke off not really wanting to admit he hadn't eaten much of anything all day. Ginny took another sip and smiled at him, as if she could tell what he was thinking. The feeling that idea gave him was rather disconcerting.

"Well, perhaps we should see what we're in for then."

She took a seat at the table and removed the dome from her plate. Harry could see something that looked as if it was made out of rice, some sort of main dish and green beans. It looked great deal more promising than the hors d'oeuvres. 

They made their way through the salad and on to the main course. "I wonder which of these is the hori-cot," commented Harry.

"No idea. In fact I'm not too sure what any of this is, really, but it's good."

"I think it's chicken," said Harry, cutting into his roll of white meat stuffed with aubergines and courgettes.

When they'd finished their meal, the dirty dishes and cutlery magically disappeared from the table, just as they did in Hogwarts Great Hall at meal time. In the place of their main courses appeared a large bowl of fresh, ripe strawberries and a small container of melted chocolate which sat over a votive candle. 

Harry refilled their glasses, and then he watched, fascinated, as Ginny picked up one of the large berries and bit down on it. Her lips were almost the same colour as the fruit. She popped the rest into her mouth, and his throat went suddenly dry as she stuck her index finger between her lips to lick it. His hand shook as he raised his glass to his lips and tried in vain to swallow the mouthful of sparkling wine.

"You know," Ginny commented, "I don't think you're quite living up to all the conditions of our date."

"Oh? Are we still on a date, now that we're married?"

"We are if I say we are. And one of the things I asked you to do was feed me. You haven't done that yet."

"How am I supposed to feed you from over here?"

"We'll just have to do something about that." She got out of her chair and came around to his side of the table. "You'll have to push back a bit for this to work."

He did so, and she sat down on his lap. The fire burning on the grate suddenly seemed to diffuse quite a lot of heat into the room. He put his arms around her waist to steady her, thankful that his chair was padded and had a wide enough seat to support them both. From this vantage he could breathe in her scent. There was a faint air of strawberries about her now that she'd eaten one. The light freckles across her shoulders and upper chest enticed him to lean in and kiss them. She trembled slightly and shifted in his lap, putting her hands on his shoulders for support.

He pulled back, pleased with her response, and smiled up at her. 

"Now," she said, and her voice was low and quiet, "if you're going to do this properly, you're going to need a demonstration."

She reached out for the bowl and selected a berry. She held it to his lips, pushing it into his mouth when he opened for her, and allowing her finger to remain, while he bit down on the strawberry, enjoying the burst of sweetness. He kissed at her fingertip when she withdrew.

"I think I've got the idea now, but aren't we supposed to dip them in the chocolate?"

"That's the next step."

Harry took another berry and dipped it into the warm chocolate before feeding it to her. The fruit left a trace of chocolate on her lips, and he watched the tip of her tongue dart out to clean it away. The sight made him tingle, and his brain began to work overtime, coming up with a few wicked ideas of his own.

With the next berry he purposely let the chocolate dribble onto her chin, and before she could do anything about it, he leaned close and kissed it away. She retaliated by holding a berry between her teeth and offering it to him, pushing it into his mouth with her tongue when he moved to take it from her. After several more breathless exchanges, Harry dared to let the chocolate drip onto the bare skin above her bodice. She threw her head back as he dipped his head to lave it with his tongue, and he couldn't resist sucking at the patch of soft, sensitive flesh.

Having Ginny on his lap and playing with her like this was fast becoming a sort of exquisite torture. He was enjoying the closeness, but at some point they were going to have to make themselves a bit more comfortable. Ginny was, at the moment, working on cleaning chocolate from his neck; it had got there when she'd dipped her finger into the dish and traced it along his skin.

He shifted under her, and she raised her head. "Should I, er… Should I think about changing?" she asked, and he detected a certain shyness in her tone.

"No, I don't want you to change. Just stay like that. I want to take that dress off you." He felt her tremble at his words. "If you want to go freshen up a bit, go ahead. I'll be waiting."

*

It didn't seem to Ginny as if she'd slept much at all that night. Wide though the mattress was, she just couldn't get comfortable in the strange bed. She opened her eyes, having the impression she'd just closed them, to find the room bathed in monochromatic grey and the fire burned down to ashes. Harry way lying asleep beside her, breathing slowly and peacefully.

She couldn't look at him, and a wave of sadness overcame her. She felt as if she'd failed him. She rolled to her side, facing in the opposite direction, wincing as she did so. She was still a bit sore. 

Tears began to rise as she thought back to the previous evening. He'd hurt her, and she'd hidden it from him. She was going to have to say something at some point, and she didn't want to face his disappointment. But she also didn't want to try making love again any time soon. What if the pain never went away? It wasn't fair, she railed to herself, especially considering everything they'd gone through to get to this point. She'd known losing her virginity was supposed to hurt, but she hadn't expected it to be quite so bad. Nothing any of the other girls had said had led her to think it would be. There was only supposed to be a moment or two of pain, but after that there was apparently pleasure in it. 

Ginny blushed. She _had_ experienced pleasure, but that had been before they'd joined. She wouldn't mind a repeat of that, but it was hardly fair to ask it of Harry if she wasn't prepared to give anything in return.

She pushed the covers back. From the looks of things it was daylight out, and she needed a shower in any case. Another glance over at Harry told her he was still oblivious. 

She retreated to the bathroom before he had a chance to wake up and say anything to her. Shutting the door behind her, she turned the taps and adjusted the water until it was as hot as she could stand it. Then she stood under the spray for a long time, letting the tears leak out and mingle with the water coursing over her, and wondering what was the matter with her.

Eventually she knew she'd have to get out. Her skin was red from the heat of the water, and she'd been under the shower so long, her fingertips were wrinkled. She washed herself as fast as she could and stepped out onto the mat, wrapping herself in a towel.

A knock sounded on the door, and she jumped. Harry. Ginny prayed he only wanted to use the loo.

"Ginny, is everything all right?"

Damn, he sounded concerned. He had to know something was up. "Everything's fine. Just give me a minute and I'll be out," she called. 

The words didn't sound convincing even to her own ears. The doorknob turned, and Ginny faced the opposite wall, not wanting to see his face, not wanting to let him see her puffy eyes.

Suddenly he was standing behind her, his arms encircling her waist. She stiffened in spite of herself, and she felt him back off just a bit.

"Ginny, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing," she said, breaking out of his arms. "I… I just need to brush my teeth, and the bathroom is yours."

"Ginny, what happened last night? I hurt you, didn't I?"

She did turn towards him then, fresh tears coming to the surface, and fell against his bare shoulder. His arms went around her again, and he held her for a while. She settled into the embrace, her own arms wrapping around his waist. At least he'd taken the time to retrieve his trousers from the floor and put them on. The stubble on his chin was rough against her forehead.

"Ginny," he said after a while, "why didn't you tell me to stop? I would have. You know that, don't you? I asked you if you were all right."

"Yes, I know you would have. I just didn't know. I thought it would go away. Anything I'd ever heard made me think it wouldn't be that bad. And…" She hesitated, thinking of his words to her on another occasion when things had come close to getting out of hand. "You once told me it was either both of us or neither of us. And, well…"

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I didn't want it to be this way."

"It wasn't completely horrible, you know. Most of it was… well, nice. It was just at the end…"

Harry took a deep breath and pressed her more tightly against his chest. "All right," he said after a silence. "We'll just have to take it more slowly I guess. We don't have to do everything until you're ready."

"But that's not fair to you," Ginny protested.

"I think we can work something out, don't you? We'll manage. I promise."

Ginny felt her throat tightening once again. "I love you, Harry," she whispered against his shoulder.

"It's going to be all right, Gin."

They held onto each other in silence for a while longer, until Ginny realised that they'd have to return to The Burrow before too long. They'd been out all night, and she had no idea what sort of reception they were going to receive once they got back home.

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: The wedding ceremony was taken from various sources. The vows were slightly adapted from the Celtic Wedding Vow by Morgan Llywelyn_. I adapted the ring vows from a ceremony I found _here_. And the blessing at the end is the _Blessing of the Apaches_._

The author denies all responsibility for any diabetic comas this chapter may have induced. The bright light in this chapter is dedicated to Cait.

For those readers who wanted to see the conversation between Harry, Sirius and Remus, there's an outtake on The Hearthrug_. The wedding night is also posted there._

There will be a few more outtakes going up on Gryffindor Tower_ within the next few days, so stay tuned._


	29. Chapter 28

****

The Long Road Home, Chapter Twenty Eight

Soft sunlight filtering through the gauzy hangings fell across Harry's face, waking him to its gentle warmth. He lay there for a few moments, staring at the spot where the ray of sun bathed the muted blue walls in its glow. He reckoned he ought to be used to wakening in this room after almost two months, but a sense of newness about it lingered.

Ginny was still asleep beside him, stretched out on her stomach, breathing calmly and evenly. Harry propped his head up on one hand so he could watch her sleep. The sunbeam fell across her face as well, striking her hair as it fanned out on the pillow and lighting its iridescent fire. Carefully he reached out and touched a strand of it, picking it up and letting it flow between his fingers. He reached out a finger and traced another lock of hair starting at her head and continuing down to the bare skin of her back. He was torn now between letting her sleep and finding an interesting way of waking her up.

Two months. They'd been married for almost two months already. He hadn't quite known how the family would take the news but once the original shock had worn off, the Weasleys had all been quite happy for him and Ginny. Mrs Weasley had insisted they go back to Hogsmeade for a proper honeymoon, and they had returned to a party and to find Ginny's room had been redecorated in their absence. And since that day Mrs Weasley had been very good about giving them space. What might have been an awkward situation had turned out to be anything but. It had helped matters a great deal in that regard when one of the twins had let slip the liberal use of permanent silencing charms around the room.

But now even this interlude in their lives would be coming to an end. Next week he and Ginny would be truly moving on, out of The Burrow and into a small whitewashed house of their own. They'd gone for a walk into the village one day and discovered a two-bedroom bungalow in a lane just off the main road that was available for rent. Upon closer inspection it wasn't difficult to see why. The place needed work, paint for the most part, but since they were willing to do the work themselves, the owner had given them a break on the rent. 

Mrs Weasley had tried to talk Harry and Ginny into waiting until Ginny had sat her NEWTs before striking out on their own, but both Harry and Ginny had privately agreed it was time. The longer they stayed at The Burrow, the more difficult it would be to leave. Even though Mrs Weasley still insisted that Ginny help out with the housework, it wasn't the same as having a place of their own. 

The prospect was at once nerve-wracking and exciting, but they'd be close enough to Ginny's family that they wouldn't have to worry too much. Ginny's brothers were going to help with the renovations and cast wards over the house for protection. Mr Weasley had been in his element as he'd offered the couple various items from his shed, and he'd gone into fits over the Muggle gadgetry that was already in place in the house. Mrs Weasley had insisted on several occasions that they come back for supper at The Burrow as often as they liked so Ginny could devote more time to her studies. Both Harry and Ginny would have their Portkeys for travel in the wizarding world, and Harry planned on taking driving lessons over the summer and buying a car so he and Ginny wouldn't look too strange to their Muggle neighbours. 

All that was still in the future, however. More immediate in Harry's mind was the day ahead of him. Today was the first anniversary of the battle in Hogsmeade, and the monument to the victims of Voldemort would be unveiled. Harry had received an owl from the Ministry of Magic asking him to participate in the ceremony, and his stomach gave a nervous lurch at the thought of what he was expected to do. If he thought he could have refused gracefully, he would have, but he knew it would look odd if he did so.

He placed his hand in the centre of Ginny's back, gently caressing the warm expanse of skin there. She shifted and stretched in her sleep. If nothing else they would have to get up soon to get ready. Brushing the hair away from her neck, Harry leaned over and nuzzled. Ginny responded by rolling over into his arms.

He held her close to him, his arms tightening around her as a sudden image, very real, flooded his mind. It had been sunny a year ago today. The light had penetrated the cracks between the boards over the windows of the Shrieking Shack. His breath expelled itself in a shudder. He was going to need her today.

Ginny sensed his need. She was awake now, lifting her head to look into his eyes, and no words were necessary between them. He could see the concern welling up in her eyes, even as she shook off the last vestiges of sleep. Then she brought up a hand to trace the contours of his face as she leaned in to kiss him, rolling to lie across his chest while under the covers her other hand began to ease downward towards his waist as she slipped it around his back to pull him closer…

A good while later, Ginny lay sprawled across Harry's chest as they waited for their heart-rates and breathing to return to normal. She'd given him the sweet oblivion he'd been craving for a time, but they could linger here no longer. As unappealing as the idea was, it was time to think about getting up. He stirred, and she raised her head to look at him with a rather bleary-eyed expression, as if she'd been about to drop off once more.

"Time to get up if we don't want to be late," Harry told her.

Ginny raised herself up, but made no move to get off of him right away. She bent her head and placed a kiss in the centre of his chest, directly over the spot where he still bore a gem-shaped burn mark. "I love you, Harry," she said before climbing out of bed.

They dressed and joined Mr and Mrs Weasley for a quick breakfast in the kitchen. It seemed strange to Harry to realise that they were the only ones left in the house. Everyone else had already moved out. And in another week, Mr and Mrs Weasley would be left alone here. He wondered how empty the house would seem to Mrs Weasley when her husband was at work all day. Of course she must be used to a version of this already. It might merely seem to her as if her children were all away at school, but somehow Harry knew she'd feel differently about it this time. He could almost imagine her bringing leftovers to their new house, claiming she wasn't used to cooking for two.

Before long they'd cleaned up the kitchen and travelled to Hogsmeade, Harry and Ginny making use of his Portkey while Mr and Mrs Weasley Apparated. The ceremony itself wasn't to begin until later in the morning, but since Harry was participating, he was expected to arrive early for the final preparations.

They walked to the end of town, where a platform had been erected and space had been cleared to receive the anticipated crowds. Harry wondered for a moment if there would be the same numbers of people turn out for this event as there had been last October. He hoped so; he hoped there would be more. There should be more. Those who had died deserved it.

To the side of the platform, he could see the place where the monument stood, very tall, pointing into the sky, and covered by a large drapery. But Harry's eye was drawn beyond the monument to a nondescript rise further outside of the village. To anyone else the spot would mean nothing, but this was a place to which Harry had never returned or indeed even looked at in a year. But he recognised it deep within himself. There was the spot from which Voldemort had disappeared forever a year ago. 

If Harry looked just a few feet in front of it, he'd see the place where he had stood. And fallen, powerless.

He couldn't go there just now. He was being ushered up to the platform to join the other participants. With a final squeeze, Ginny let go of his hand, and Harry went with the Ministry official to receive his final instructions.

He was relieved to recognise some of the others present. Sirius was there, and it was a comfort to know his godfather would be nearby. Badon Hill nodded to him in passing. Then he recognised another wizard, someone he'd met only once before last autumn. Albus Dumbledore's brother was there on the platform as well, and he wasn't alone. Fawkes was perched on his shoulder, and the phoenix let out a soft note when he saw Harry. Harry thought of the final conversation he'd had with the portrait of his former mentor; the old headmaster had said Fawkes was with a new guardian and Harry couldn't think of anyone more appropriate.

There was not time for any small talk, however. The participants were being walked through the ceremony now. By the time they'd finished, people were beginning to arrive on the scene. Harry was able to recognise the Weasley family by their vibrant hair. Ginny was standing off to one side with her parents. George and Pauline had already joined them, but Fred was nowhere in sight at the moment. He watched the Weasleys, hoping Ginny would turn and look in his direction, but she seemed to be caught up in talking to the others. As Harry watched, Ron and Hermione joined their group followed by Percy and Penny.

Harry took his place on the platform and waited with the others for the ceremony to begin. The day was growing hot, and Harry's dress robes began to weigh on his shoulders uncomfortably. The crowd below was growing larger, reminding him of the previous autumn's gathering in Diagon Alley, in spite of the contrast. While last Halloween had been a dull, grey day, today was bright and sunny; while on that day the throngs had turned out in their most colourful robes, the people below were now dressed in more sombre hues; while Harry had had his friends -- most especially Ginny -- next to him then, she was standing with her family now, but at least they were no longer separated.

The Minister for Magic had moved to stand in the middle of the platform now. It was about to begin. The crowd quieted. As Eugenia Smythe-Snepperton began to speak to the assembly, Harry looked up into the sky. From the angle of the sun, Harry could tell it was about the same time of day that he and the others had left the Shrieking Shack to take up their positions for the coming battle.

Harry tried to make himself follow the Minister for Magic's speech, but he couldn't prevent the images of a year ago from distracting him. Rather than listening to the words of the present, his own memories were engulfing him now. 

__

He was walking down the High Street with Ron, Sirius, Bill and the others. He and Ron were left behind at the barricade, while the older men went on ahead. Madam Rosmerta was barking at him to keep his head down…

"Artemis and Mordecai Prewett. September 17, 1973."

They had begun to read the names of Voldemort's victims, starting with his first reign of terror. Harry knew he ought to pay better attention. His part would be coming up. But the number of names being read off was impossibly long…

__

He was waiting, waiting with Ron for something to happen. The twins were taking refuge behind the breastwork. Zonko's was exploding in a cloud of heavy smoke.

"Susannah and Stanilsas Bones. March 23, 1976."

The dates were getting closer to the present. He had to concentrate, but he couldn't.

__

They were waiting again. The smoke was pouring over the village and blotting out the sun. There were shouts. Someone was coming. It was Dumbledore with the Hogwarts staff and students.

"Lily and James Potter. October 31, 1981."

Harry started to attention, as the names of his parents seemed to echo through time and space. His eye fell upon Ginny amid the crowd. She was looking at him, watching his reaction. He began to rise for his part, but the Minister for Magic was stepping forward again, asking everyone to observe a few minutes of silence for the first wave of victims before they continued.

The crowd complied and everything went utterly still. The sun beat down from the zenith on Harry's head, and his memories threatened to take over once again. But somewhere in the distance a birdsong called him back to the here and now, and at the Minister's signal, he stood.

Harry paused for a moment and turned his back to the onlookers both to collect himself and to allow Sirius to perform a Sonorus Charm on him. Then he reached into his pocket with a sweaty palm and pulled out the piece of parchment on which he had prepared his text. He didn't really need it, since there were only four names on it and he'd been an eyewitness to two of the deaths listed there, but he felt more secure with it in his hand, and he held it up in front of him as if it was a shield.

"These…" he began hoarsely, but he has to clear his throat before he went on. "These are the first four deaths of Voldemort's second rising. You may be unaware of the first two or three, but perhaps it's all the more important you know the names and circumstances for that very reason."

As Harry spoke, he was aware of movement out of the corner of his eye. Several wizards were moving into place around the monument.

"Bertha Jorkins. Summer of 1994. Exact date unknown. She held a position in the Department of Magical Games and Sports and unfortunately decided to take a summer holiday in Albania where she met up with Peter Pettigrew at an inn. He brought her before Voldemort who probed her memory for whatever information she could give him. When she was no longer of any use to him, he callously killed her."

Harry noted a flash of white to his left. The stone had been unveiled, a monolith of white marble.

"Frank Bryce. August 14, 1994. Frank was a Muggle and worked as the caretaker in the house where Tom Riddle lived. Tom Riddle, Senior was Voldemort's father, and when Voldemort returned to England in the late summer of 1994, he used his father's then-abandoned house as a hideout. Frank was killed when he noticed a presence in the house, went to investigate and overheard Voldemort's plans.

"Bartemius Crouch, Senior. May 24, 1995. He was the head of the Department of International Co-operation and was killed by his own son in Voldemort's service. He'd spent the previous months under the Imperius Curse, but by May he'd begun to break through it. He came to Hogwarts to alert Dumbledore, but his son, who had disguised himself as Alastor Moody using Polyjuice Potion, got to him first and killed him."

Harry paused here and sought out Ginny for reassurance. Whenever he'd looked up at the crowd during the foregoing speech, his eye had been drawn in the Weasleys' direction. Now as his eye travelled back to his place on the parchment, he caught a glimpse of black hair, and he looked on the face of Cho Chang. She nodded slightly and he nodded back before continuing.

"Cedric Diggory. June 24, 1995. Prefect for Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, and Tri-wizard Champion. He was murdered in cold blood by Peter Pettigrew simply for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, like so many other victims. He took the Tri-wizard Cup with me and we were Portkeyed into Voldemort's presence. They only wanted me. Cedric was in the way, so he was killed for no other reason than that."

There was another silence as Harry regained his seat. Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed before pointing his wand at Harry's throat and muttering, "_Quietus_."

The next person rose and began reciting more names and dates while Harry fought a quiet battle within himself to remain in the present.

"…Rubeus Hagrid…"

__

Smoke.

"… Justin Finch-Fletchley…"

__

Watching.

"…Hannah Abbott…"

__

Waiting.

"…Cornelius Fudge…" More names of people Harry did not know. "…Charlie Weasley… Stewart Ackerley… Albus Dumbledore…"

They were almost at the end, and when it was reached, there was another period of silence.

Then, one by one, others got up to speak. Each speaker had known one of the dead on the memorial stone. When Sirius rose to tell how Charlie had saved his life, Harry watched the Weasleys closely and thought of how much had changed in just over a year.

__

Wounded coming out of the smoke. Rumours. Rout. Death.

When Sirius was finished, Aberforth Dumbledore rose, and his speech was perhaps the most remarkable of all. 

"The others who have spoken have all told you of the past, remembering comrades and loved ones," he said in his magically amplified voice. "I have decided that my brother would rather we look to the future, and in doing so I am reminded of one of the goals he had. That goal was to take away the fear of a name. For it is fear more than anything that blinds us and paralyses us. Cornelius Fudge, the previous Minister for Magic, chose this route when he decided to deny to the world that Voldemort had returned. It did not save his life, however. Now Voldemort is gone, but most of our world still avoids saying his name. And so today, I invite you to honour my brother's memory and cast aside your fear and say the name out loud with me. Voldemort."

A few voices joined Aberforth's. "Come on, you can do better than that," he intoned. Voldemort!"

Several more joined him this time. "Let's try again. Everyone now. Say the name. Shout it! And as you do, think, 'Never again!' _Voldemort_!"

The noise was deafening this time as thousands of voices rose as one.

"One last time now. Shout the name and say never again!"

"VOLDEMORT! NEVER AGAIN!" Harry lifted his voice with the others.

The ceremony was over. The crowd was beginning to mingle. Harry looked up at the sky and saw that the sun had fallen from noon. It was now halfway towards the horizon. A shiver passed through him in spite of the heat. 

Now. It was now he'd detached. He felt himself doing it again. He'd lost sight of his family in the crowd. He no longer heard the chatter. People might have spoken to him, but their words did not reach his ears. His feet began to move of their own accord in the direction of the monument, but his eyes did not see it. They were fixed on a spot beyond where everyone was gathering to read the names engraved on the white marble.

__

Emerging from the smoke. Dumbledore at Voldemort's feet. Words exchanged. A challenge issued.

The memories had taken over now, and Harry had no choice but to relive them.

__

A spell. Pain beyond belief. Complete helplessness.

A pair of loving arms encircled him; a soft body pressed against his back. Harry didn't have to look to see who it was. Somehow Ginny had sensed his need and followed him.

__

Sky. Lucius Malfoy's leering face. A final curse. Green light. Total darkness.

Harry let Ginny turn him in her arms and enfold him in an embrace. "This is it, isn't it?" she asked him quietly. "This is the spot."

Harry nodded against her shoulder. "I've been seeing it all day. Images. The last day. The last day I had any powers." His breath hitched and he couldn't go on.

Ginny pulled him closer to her, and the tears slipped out quietly into her hair. Harry wasn't even sure what he was mourning at this point: his powers or those who had made a greater sacrifice than he had. Maybe it was a little of both.

They stood thus for a long time, it seemed. It was peaceful here away from the crowd. There was nothing left to indicate that the decisive moment had occurred on this spot. New grass grew over the rise, dotted with wildflowers. Nature itself had used the preceding year to cover over the scars of battle and cleanse the spot.

At last Harry pulled back and put an arm around Ginny's shoulder, turning them both to look out across what had been a battlefield. Harry could still remember what it looked like when it had been pitted and strewn with bodies. "I don't regret it," he said. "It was worth it in the end. I may not have any powers left, but I've got more than I thought I'd ever have. Come on, I'm ready to go back."

Together they walked towards the monument. In spite of the numbers of people gathered around it, there was an eerie silence. The onlookers spoke in whispers, out of respect for the names engraved on the stone. The crowd parted before Harry and Ginny, allowing them to approach, almost as if they recognised that Harry ought to have the right to pay his respects before anyone else. Ron and Hermione were in the front near the stone, but even they said nothing for the moment, nodding wordlessly in greeting as Harry came to stand beside them.

The monument was made up of six faces soaring towards the sky and ending in a point. A number was carved at the top of each face: a year followed by the names of those who had given their lives over the course of those twelve months. The first face bore only two names, those of Bertha Jorkins and Frank Bryce, along with a brief description of who they were. The second face, headed 1995, began with Bartemius Crouch, Senior, followed by Cedric Diggory, Tri-Wizard Champion. And after that came other names, still relatively few in number. The third side held many, many more, including Hagrid, but the fourth and fifth sides held the most. 

On these sides, there began to appear names of witches and wizards from other countries. French names, German names, Slavic names… Not far apart in the list Harry noticed the names of Aidan Lynch and Nadia Ivanova. They'd opposed each other at the Quidditch World Cup, but they'd been on the same side when things really mattered. And they were both gone now.

On the face headed 1998 near the bottom began to appear those who had died in the final battle. Albus Dumbledore was there, but his was not the last name on the list. Harry also noted the names of Professors Sinistra and Grubbly-Plank, followed by a few other names. There was space at the bottom of this side for more names. Beside him, Ginny reached out and ran her fingers over Charlie's name, which was inscribed further up the face.

The final side was left completely blank, and to Harry it seemed both a sign of hope and a warning. It was hopeful in the sense that the stonecutter hadn't needed any more space for more names, but at the same time, it was as if the designer was trying to make a statement to the wizarding world not to make another stonecutter come and be obliged to engrave more names on the monument. Harry heard the words _never again_ rising from thousands of voices echo through his mind, and a shiver passed through him. Beside him, he felt Ginny squeeze his hand.

It was time to step back and allow others to pay their respects. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione moved off and let others take their place at the stone. No one spoke a word, each seemingly lost in his thoughts, as they walked over to join the rest of the Weasley family, which had gathered in the shade of the Zonko's building.

Even George seemed subdued, as the family stood and began to discuss the day's proceedings. Names from the monument were mentioned: classmates, friends, parents of friends, teachers, people they'd never known.

Suddenly Ginny realised someone was missing. "Where's Fred?" she asked.

"He said he'd be back," replied Pauline. "He ran into someone."

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Some girl he's had on his mind for over a year," replied George.

"Honestly," said Hermione rolling her eyes. "Can't he ever be serious for once?"

"Oh, I think he's quite serious," said George. "More serious than I've ever seen him."

"Well, who is this then?" asked Mrs Weasley. "Have I ever met her?"

"Don't know if you have, Mum," replied George. "She was still at Hogwarts last year when he first met her. A Ravenclaw named Ami. He's been after her to go out with him ever since."

"Oh," said Hermione. "I know her. She was in my Arithmancy classes. She's quite nice, but she's always got something going on. Fred will have his hands full if he ever gets together with her."

"Yes, well it would be nice to have someone who will keep him on his toes," remarked Ginny. "Perhaps he won't get into as much trouble that way."

Mrs Weasley looked sceptical. "I don't know if the girl who can stay one step ahead of Fred exists, but if she does, I'd like to meet her."

After a while the family decided to split up. Mrs Weasley had supper preparations to see to, and some of the others decided to look for Fred, who still hadn't turned up. Harry and Ginny went through the crowds, keeping an eye out for red hair. Harry thought the village didn't look as sad as it had in the past few weeks. The merchants who were left had made an effort to brighten the place up with fresh paint, cleaning charms and summer flowers.

While they never did meet up with Fred, they managed to run into quite a few of their former classmates. It looked as if Colin and Parvati were still a couple. They were walking arm in arm amidst the crowd when they spotted Harry and Ginny and came over to say hello.

"How are you enjoying married life?" asked Parvati, beaming. "I knew it was going to happen. I predicted it. Do you remember, Harry?"

Harry forced a smile and nodded, but inside he felt rather self-conscious. He also wondered to himself why she'd bothered chasing after him last year if she'd known all along that he and Ginny were destined for each other.

As they were chatting, Seamus and Lavender came to say hello as well, and after a bit more small talk and more congratulations, their former classmates decided to go to the Three Broomsticks for some refreshment. Harry and Ginny declined their invitation to join them, and continued to search for Fred in the crowd.

Ginny came across Professor Stone, her Ancient Runes teacher, and introduced her to Harry. Professor Stone seemed quite enthusiastic about Ginny's job prospects once she'd taken her NEWTs.

They also met up with Mrs Mutt who gleefully passed along some gossip that made Harry wonder whether she'd succeeded in breaking her confidentiality oath. It seemed that Gervaise St John had managed to bring his first case before the Council of Magical Law but had managed to blow what should have been a straightforward conviction. 

"Are you sure you're allowed to tell us this?" Harry asked her.

"It's not a problem, since it'll be in the papers at some point. The trial's a matter of public record now. The best part of it is, Hill's sure to sack him. Your friend Hermione does such a good job for us that we don't need him anymore. Hill's quite impressed with her, and St John has become more of a liability than anything else. In fact, Hermione is the best clerk we've had since I can remember."

"Oh well, thanks for the vote of confidence," remarked Harry.

Mrs Mutt's eyes sparked with humour. "No offence to you, dear. It was a great improvement to have you in the office, but I think we all know your heart wasn't really in it."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I know that, and I wasn't offended. If I'd wanted to come back, I could have."

"I just want you to know if there's anything more I can do for either of you, let me know."

"That's very nice of you, Mrs Mutt," said Ginny, "but my father's been taking care of our paperwork for us. We're getting ready to move into a house of our own. Why don't you come see us once we get settled?"

"How kind of you, dear. I'd love to."

They said goodbye to Mrs Mutt and moved on. It wasn't long before they'd spotted Percy coming out of the Three Broomsticks. "We've found Fred in there," Percy told Harry and Ginny jerking his head back towards the inn. "He's managed to convince that girl to go for drinks with him, but he'll be along. You may as well go back to The Burrow. Tell Mum the rest of us will be along."

"We'll go back in just a bit," Ginny told her brother. "See you later!"

"Is there anything else you wanted to do?" Harry asked her, as they moved off into the crowd again.

"Not really, but I wondered… Are you going to be all right? I know today can't have been easy for you."

"I'll be all right," Harry replied. Ginny looked at him sceptically. "Honestly I will be. You're right, this hasn't been an easy day for me, but… I don't know how to explain it. I did need this today. Yes, I wanted everyone to know who the real heroes were. And I think we all needed to say goodbye. Now that it's over, I think I'm going to be fine."

"We'll both be fine."

"Yes."

But they were headed back towards the field. Harry wasn't entirely sure whether she'd decided he needed to go back or he'd set his own feet on that path, but within a few minutes they were standing on the spot once again. Harry put an arm around Ginny, and she laid her hear on his shoulder, while he looked one last time at the place where he'd banished Voldemort. He closed his eyes and called up the images of that day, but they didn't affect him the way they had earlier. They would always be a fundamental part of him, but they could no longer hold any power over him. They were part of the past and could be set aside.

After a while Ginny raised her head and asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Let's go home."

*

It seemed like an eternity since she'd been imprisoned. She could only vaguely remember waking up to find her entire world had turned green. At the time it had struck her as funny, until she'd realised that the air was somehow heady with the odour of fermented grapes. Then she'd fallen back to sleep, and when she'd woken once again, head pounding, her circumstances did not seem the least bit humorous.

By her calculations that had been months ago. She was thoroughly tired of the colour green by now. Once she managed to get out of this predicament, she was going to burn all her green robes, and buy new ones of magenta, vivid purple and orange. Green may once have been her house colour, but this was more than any human -- or insect -- could stand.

To make matters worse, the only thing she'd had to sustain her for all these months had been a few leaves, which had been charmed so that they kept growing. She was heartily tired of them, but her body demanded nourishment, and it was either the leaves or starvation.

Or it had been up until a few weeks ago. She had no idea what had happened -- indeed she had no idea where she was -- but somehow her glass-walled prison had been knocked on its side. Not enough to shatter it, unfortunately, but it was something. Now she could reach the cork easily.

In the early days, she'd tried to dislodge the cork by flying up into the narrow space at the top and knocking against the cork bodily. But she'd never been able to get any sort of leverage that way and had only succeeded in tiring herself to the point of falling onto her back on several occasions. Then she'd been obliged to batter helplessly at the air with her six legs until she'd managed to right herself once more, but mostly it only served to fatigue her further. There were times when being stuck in insect form was most annoying.

But since the bottle had been tipped onto its side, she'd been able to crawl up to the cork and gnaw on it. It tasted about the same as she imagined cardboard would, but it was a change in menu from the leaves. The process was slow going, but she'd been making progress. With any sort of luck she might get out today.

It would be like heaven to assume her human form once again. She barely remembered what that felt like.

Strengthening her resolve, she crawled along the slippery surface until she'd reached the cork once more and began her feast. Only yesterday, she'd made a small hole to the outside, allowing the tiniest entry for fresh air to waft in. If she thought about things rationally, she'd have known the air coming in smelled of dust, heat and humidity, but to her it was like a spring breeze after months of stale, wine-tainted air.

She could breathe in the new air now, and it gave her hope. She began to gnaw faster. Soon… Soon she would be free. And then she'd see. She'd see what she could do to those who had so rashly imprisoned her.

The cork began to wobble a bit in the bottleneck. She'd managed to eat enough of it to loosen its grip on the bottle. Just a little more, and she might be able to push it out. 

She kept on, encouraged. Perhaps she could make the hole large enough that she could squeeze through it. She'd always been rather fat in beetle form, but she was sure she'd lost some weight after months of her forced diet.

The cork was much looser now. Just a few more bites, and then a shove or two and she'd be free. She returned to her work with renewed vigour, knowing the end of her imprisonment was attainable. She had only to reach out and grasp it.

With one final heave, she finally worked the cork out of the bottle and crept to freedom. She found herself in a darkened room smelling of dust and age. There were things stored here: boxes and old pieces of furniture covered with old sheets. An attic then. She looked about for any hint of light. There must be a window or a hole in the roof. Some way to the outside. She couldn't risk transforming here. This was still enemy territory.

Finally she found what she was looking for: a broken window that hadn't been properly repaired. There was enough room for her to squeeze her way out into the darkness. The air outside was cooler and smelled of early summer. It felt good to stretch her wings after all those months of imprisonment. 

For a while she flew about just for the joy of it, but she found herself easily fatigued. The months of inactivity, combined with the efforts she'd just made to escape and the limited diet had taken their toll. She had to find a place to rest. Spotting a tree nearby, she alit on a branch.

After she'd taken a few moments to rest, she became aware of voices and laughter ringing through the night. Her senses immediately went on the alert. She had to get closer and see what they were saying. If they could provide her with the means for her revenge, so much the better.

She spread her wings and took off once more, following the sound of the voices. They seemed to be coming from the other side of the house, where a faint multicoloured glow could be seen illuminating the darkness. As she flew nearer, she could hear snatches of conversation.

"How are you enjoying the job at the Ministry, Hermione?"

"Come off it, Dad. You know she's not allowed to talk about it."

"Honestly, Ron, I'm allowed to say if I like it or not. As a matter of fact I do. It's quite a challenge. When I got there, the filing system was in a terrible state, but I've reorganised the entire thing…"

"Are you and Ginny all ready for the big move, Harry?"

"As ready as we'll ever be."

It was perfect. They were all assembled for some reason or another. She was sure to get something good. She approached cautiously, flitting about and looking for the best vantage point. It was difficult with all the various coloured lights distracting her.

Something made a sharp buzzing sound, and several of the people sitting outside jumped. Several _oohs_ and _ahhs_ were heard. Looking for the source of their amusement, she saw it. The light. It was the most beautiful light she'd ever seen. It shone into the darkness amidst all the lesser lights like a beacon, blindingly white with a purplish cast to it. She had to get closer. It was the most fascinating thing. It was enough to make her forget to listen in on the conversation entirely.

She had to get closer. It was beckoning to her. It was as if her mind was no longer her own. She circled about the metallic cage that encompassed it. That poor light! It was imprisoned just as she had been. Well, she'd managed to escape; perhaps she could help the light as well. All she needed to do was get closer. Perhaps enter the cage and attack from within. Maybe the light had tried on its own but was too exhausted from its efforts. She would rescue it, and then it would be hers. Her very own light. She would become one with it. She flew between the bars…

*

ZAP!

As one the Weasleys jumped. The noise coming from Mr Weasley's bug zapper, as Hermione called it, had been the loudest yet.

"Wow. That must have been a big one!" exclaimed Fred, whom Percy had finally managed to pry away from Ami and drag back to The Burrow.

"Yeah," added George. "So big we'll still find its guts on that thing in the morning."

"Honestly, must you be so graphic about it?" said Hermione, pulling a face.

"Yeah, well as long as it's not Rita Skeeter," said Ron, laughing.

"Ron…" Hermione sounded horrified. "You don't think…"

"Of course not. It was only a joke."

"Ron, have you been to check on her lately? Maybe it's time to think about letting her go."

"Why? No one seems to have missed her. I've been checking the reports. It's been almost four months and no one has reported her missing yet."

"Yes, why indeed," added Mrs Weasley. "Let her rot, I say."

"So, Harry," said Mr Weasley bringing the topic of conversation back to where it had been before they were interrupted. "I was going to make arrangements with the Floo Regulation Panel to have your fireplace connected. It could come in useful. Have you got a name picked out for the place yet?"

"Er, not really," replied Harry. "I haven't given it much thought."

"Well it's in Knightstone Lane," remarked Ginny. "There can't be any other wizarding houses in that lane. Can't we just name it Knightstone?"

"Aren't you going to have to get a car if you're going to live all the way out there?" asked Mr Weasley. He looked more excited by the prospect than was probably safe. Harry could imagine him planning to charm it to do all sorts of illegal things. "You know, I could teach you to drive."

"No, Arthur," said Mrs Weasley. "I won't have it. Ever since that old Anglia we had, you've been itching for an excuse to get your hands on another car, but this is too much. Let Harry learn to drive the proper way."

"Actually," said Harry quickly, hoping to avoid a row, "I was planning on taking lessons this summer and then seeing about buying something."

If Mr Weasley had been planning on offering to charm the boot to make it larger, his wife's expression made him change his mind. The conversation turned to other topics after that, and the family passed a pleasant evening under the stars.

Much later that night, Harry lay in bed holding his wife in his arms as she slept. He ran his fingers gently over her bare skin and through her hair. As he stared up at the canopy, which fluttered dimly in the warm breeze floating in from the open window, he thought back on the day. It had been difficult, but it had been nowhere near as bad as the day he'd thought he'd lost Ginny. And it was over now, just as the past year was over.

He bent his head and kissed Ginny's hairline. In a week they'd be in their own house, reliant on nobody but themselves. They'd chosen this path, knowing it would not be easy, but both of them were strong and ready to take on whatever life threw at them. After all they'd lived through in the past year, Harry couldn't imagine not being able to face whatever they came across.

He remembered the words he'd said to Ginny earlier today. It _had_ been worth it in the end, and he didn't regret what he'd done. He'd been completely honest with both Ginny and himself when he'd said that. As he drifted off to sleep his mind incongruously wandered back to his first year at Hogwarts. An image of the Mirror of Erised and what he'd seen there came to the fore. Perhaps he'd managed to achieve the deepest desire of his heart, and that was more powerful than any magic he could possess. 

To Be Continued…

__

A/N: Epilogue still to come. It's written, so you can expect it to be posted next week. Thanks to Jo and Ami for the beta. There's an outtake from this chapter posted on www.thehearthrug,net_._

Also for those of you who wanted to read about the Weasleys' reaction to the news, that appears in a couple of outtakes found on www.gryffindortower.net_. There's also a third one showing Sirus' and Remus' reaction to the news. There will also be another outtake posted on _Gryffindor Tower_ in the next few days._


	30. Epilogue

****

The Long Road Home, Epilogue

"You go on ahead, Harry. I'll catch you up. I've got some things to take care of before the match." Ginny squeezed his hand before letting go of it trailing her fingers across his palm to maintain the contact for as long as possible.

Harry smiled at his wife, and continued across the wide Hogwarts grounds towards the Quidditch pitch, while Ginny headed up the drive towards the front doors. He wondered if anyone could have predicted that she'd end up a teacher at Hogwarts when she'd been expelled almost a quarter-century earlier. But having some of the highest marks on her Ancient Runes NEWT had counted for quite a lot, as had her friendship and continued contact with Professor Stone, who had sent her students to tutor and had passed translation work on to her. When Rosie had decided to retire six years ago, Ginny had been the obvious choice for the job.

Harry hadn't been on the Hogwarts grounds as often as he might have been in the past years, but whenever he had visited his old school, it had always struck him how little the place seemed to change. The students all still wore their black robes; the rivalry between the Gryffindors and Slytherins was as hot as it had ever been in Harry's time there; Quidditch was still popular; Professor Snape was as greasy-haired as ever. There may have been a new generation of students, but it still contained the requisite Weasley redheads. Ginny's brothers had seen to that.

On the other hand, contrary to the way things had been in the past, the current generation of Weasleys were not restricted to Gryffindor. Percy had four children, and each had been Sorted into a different house. His youngest, the current Head Boy, was a Slytherin. That turn of events had come as a shock to the entire family, but most especially Ron. Ron was close with Percy's chess-loving son, and it had given Ron some mixed feelings as he was forced to confront old House prejudices. But it was perhaps even better that he had, in light of the fact that Ron's first three children had been Sorted into Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff respectively. It looked like a definite possibility that the youngest would become a Slytherin when she began to attend Hogwarts in another two years.

Whenever he came here, Harry felt the only thing that had changed was he, himself. Now that he was into his early forties, his black hair was beginning to show some grey at the temples, while the laugh lines around his eyes deepened slightly every year. But at the same time there was an air of contentment about him now. It wasn't anything he would have noticed in himself, but others remarked on it, and thinking about it, Harry knew it was true. He no longer became as nervous and uneasy around new people. He'd found his place in the world and was happy in it.

He climbed the stadium steps to the seats reserved for him and Ginny. He was early, and not many had arrived for the match yet. The students were no doubt all still at breakfast, even the teams who would be playing today. It was too soon for them to have come down to the changing rooms for some last-minute strategizing. 

Harry didn't mind. It was a beautiful day for Quidditch: the sun was shining among white puffy clouds, but it wasn't too hot. There was a gentle breeze blowing across the pitch… Harry closed his eyes and probed his memory. He'd have loved to be in the air today. He could remember days like this from his youth, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the wind rushing past his ears as he scanned for the Snitch…

"Harry! Good to see you!"

George Weasley's voice broke in on his thoughts. He was climbing up the steps, Pauline in tow, followed by three redheaded children. Harry knew they'd arrived early on purpose, because George's progeny could never arrive anywhere without making a scene. At least only half of his family was here. The other three were up at the school.

"Hello, George. What do you think about Gryffindor's chances today?"

"They've got Mack, haven't they?" Mack was George's second-born. "With any luck he'll hit a Bludger that'll knock Stace off her broom."

"It hasn't happened so far," Harry commented.

Stace was Anastasia Krum, a sixth-year Ravenclaw, who had played for her house team since her second year. She'd apparently inherited her father's talent as Seeker, because she'd never been beaten in any match she'd played in. Her parents had decided to send her to Hogwarts for her magical education, since they were both teachers at Durmstrang, and they didn't want anyone to be able to claim favouritism where their daughter was concerned.

Harry sighed as he thought of Viktor Krum. Harry and Ginny had gone for several years with no word from him, but then Viktor had begun sending the occasional letter. They were always friendly in nature and included both Harry and Ginny in the greeting. It soon became apparent why. Viktor had met someone; a new teacher had been hired on at Durmstrang and Viktor was utterly taken by her. Harry and Ginny had even been invited to the wedding, but they hadn't attended. Given the history Harry just hadn't been able to bring himself to go, and Ginny hadn't pressed him on the matter.

More spectators were beginning to arrive as Harry and George continued to discuss the Gryffindor team's chances in this match. Harry looked up to crowds of students swarming down the front steps and across the sloping lawns. Here and there, he spotted a shock of red hair, but from this distance it was difficult to tell which of his nieces or nephews it might be.

Fred was helping his wife, Ami, up the steps to their seats. She was huffing and red from the effort of hauling herself up this high while sporting one of the largest bellies Harry had ever seen. She was a small woman to begin with, and being in the late stages of pregnancy with triplets had to make life difficult. It also didn't help that Fred and Ami were arguing over the outcome of the match. Since Ami was a former Ravenclaw, she must have felt outnumbered among so many Gryffindor supporters, which only served to make her voice her views all the more loudly. Once Penelope arrived, Ami, as well as Pauline, wouldn't feel quite so outnumbered.

"Nice seats you got for us, Harry," Fred commented. "A bit high up if you're expecting, but prime spots for the rest of us."

"Yeah, not like in the past where we've had to settle for down near the ground," added George. "Guess it helps to have connections."

"I don't know as how I'm any better connected than you are," Harry said to his business partners. "Only it was my idea to donate brooms to the entire school."

"And only the best brooms out there, if I do say so myself," said Fred with pride. In recent years, demand for the Phoenix, the broom Harry had so meticulously developed, had outstripped any other brand.

The others were arriving as well -- Ron and Hermione had their youngest in tow -- but Ginny still hadn't put in an appearance. Harry wondered what could have possibly been keeping her. He'd thought she'd only had some minor business to attend to before the match, but it must have turned out to be more complicated than she'd expected. Looking around, Harry noticed that none of the other staff members were present yet, either.

Ron had overheard the last comment about the broom donation. "Did you really have to donate brooms to the _entire_ school? Seems to me you could have left out the Slytherins."

Fred and George both laughed. "That's Harry for you. He has to play fair."

"Besides, we, er, doctored the Slytherin brooms." 

George had lowered his voice as he made that last comment, but Harry overheard it all the same. In any case, he knew the twins well enough to have suspected foul play. "You may have, but I replaced them at the last minute," Harry informed them, grinning.

"You're no fun, are you?" Fred grumbled.

"Speaking of brooms," Ron said, "you'll never guess who I saw the other day, Harry."

"Who?"

"Went to a Cannon's match, and well, you remember that pillock who used to work in Hermione's office? The one that got the sack right after she started working for the Ministry?"

"You mean Gervaise St John?"

"Yeah, him. Anyway, he was taking tickets at the match. Guess he couldn't get anything better."

Harry couldn't help laughing. "You'd think after all these years he'd have been able to find something better than that. I guess Mrs Mutt was right about him all along."

"Have you decided on any names for the babies yet?" Hermione was asking Ami. "I've always loved the name Aloisius, myself. If I'd had another boy…"

"What about Poindexter?" Pauline chimed in. "Or Angelo?"

"Or Ignatius?" mentioned Penelope. "I'd got Percy convinced to name our last one that, and he changed his mind at the last minute."

"Actually," said Ami, "we asked the midwife, and she said they were girls."

Harry shook his head as the other women immediately began to suggest such other creative names as Hortense and Lavinia. He had to make an effort not to laugh. Ginny had gone through the same thing both times she'd been pregnant, but she'd stuck to her guns and given their two children what Harry considered nice, normal names. Still, he didn't suppose he could expect any less from Penelope, who had named her children Prudence, Ipheginia, Theodora and Ambrose. Pauline had been just as inventive, naming her six Leonard, McCarthy, Harrison, Astrid, Stokeley and Magus, while Ron and Hermione had chosen to call their children Siobhan, Philben, Eugene and Wassalissa.

"What about Elizabeth?" Ginny had arrived at last. The other women looked at her as if she were daft to suggest such a name. "It was just an idea," she added.

"Actually, we've already decided what to call them," said Ami. "Although Fred insisted one of them be Suzette, but I don't like that. I want to call them Buffy, Magenta and Buttercup."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ginny as she took her seat next to him. She smiled back at him and patted his knee as if they were sharing a private joke.

"What kept you?" he asked.

Ginny let out an exasperated sigh. "You know, I only needed to run to my office for a moment and pick up some papers I'd forgotten yesterday. It should have been a simple matter of going to get them. But I was halfway up the stairs when all this smoke began pouring out of the Great Hall. It seems as if _someone_--" here she jerked her head in George's direction "--decided today would be a good day to play a joke on all the teachers."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You think _George_…" he began in a whisper, leaning closer so she could hear him.

"No, not George," Ginny hissed back. "Lenny."

"Just Lenny?" asked Harry. "Don't you mean Lenny and Mack?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. Lenny always manages to drag Mack into his schemes, but you know it's Lenny who thinks most of it up, don't you? Then he convinces his brother to go in on it with him, and arranges things so Mack gets all the blame. That's what you get when you put a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor together. One has the brains to think the pranks up and the other has the nerve to follow through. It's a dangerous combination if you ask me."

"What makes you so sure it was Lenny?"

"It had to be Lenny in this case. I don't think Mack's marks indicate he's quite up to this level of prank. It was quite complicated. It involved explosives and enhancing spells, and it was designed to make a huge mess without causing any real damage. And you know pulling something like that off involves some pretty delicate work."

Harry nudged her. "I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, shut it." But she was smiling as she said it. "In any case I don't think Mack could get away with a prank like that."

"So are you going to give Lenny a detention?"

"Oh no, just a good talking to. He thinks he can get away with putting his brother up to things like this, but he needs to realise someone's on to him. The start of the match is going to be delayed because of this," Ginny added.

"They're not going to try to stop Mack from playing, are they?"

"No, I don't think so. I tried to smooth that much of it over. If they'd been playing Slytherin today it might be another story. Severus wasn't very happy when his breakfast blew up in his face. But since it's Ravenclaw, and Filius is a bit more easygoing, there shouldn't be a problem."

Harry smiled at her. It was still strange to hear her refer to their former professors by their first names. As they continued to wait for the start of the match, Harry looked out across the pitch. He spotted his eleven-year-old daughter, Catherine, sitting with her Weasley cousins when the sunlight glinted off her glasses and her bright red hair. 

As time dragged on and the match still hadn't started, Harry began to lose track of the conversation around him. For some reason the sight of his daughter's hair brought to mind a memory of the day she'd been born.

*

"You can go in now, Harry," Molly said as she emerged from the bedroom.

"Is… What… How…" Harry stuttered.

"Ginny is doing just fine. She's done this once before, you know. And you have a lovely, healthy little girl. Go on, they're waiting for you."

Harry didn't need to be asked a third time. He hurried into their bedroom to find Ginny propped up among the pillows, smiling but tired-looking. She held a tiny bundle to her breast.

"Hi," he said softly to his wife, as he moved to sit beside her and look over her shoulder. "Your mum said it was a girl."

"Yes, and she's going to have my hair, I think." Ginny moved the blanket aside so Harry could see a tiny red-faced new-born suckling hungrily. Her head was covered with sparse reddish fuzz in direct contrast to the full head of black hair Alexander, their two-year-old son, had come into the world with.

There was a knock on the door, and Molly stuck her head into the bedroom. "If you think you'll be all right, I'll just pop home for a bit. Make sure Arthur is getting along all right with Alex. I've seen to the midwife already."

"That's fine, Mum," Ginny replied. "Thanks for everything."

"It's nothing, dear. I'll be back after a while with some supper for you both." Then Molly was gone, leaving Harry alone with his wife and the newest member of their family.

He put an arm around Ginny's shoulders and watched his new daughter nurse. It was amazing to him that such a tiny baby would soon be growing, and that this time next year she'd be walking and talking. "She's beautiful," Harry said at last.

"She is. And just think. This time we'll be able to send out birth announcements."

Harry had to laugh at that. Hedwig had mysteriously disappeared when Ginny was about six months along with Alexander. Harry had been worried as the months had bone by and Hedwig had not returned. He'd considered getting another owl, but he reckoned there was no point to it. Any other owl but Hedwig wouldn't be able to find him or Ginny, he was certain. Plus it had seemed like a betrayal to him. By that autumn, Harry had resigned himself to the fact that she wouldn't be coming back.

It came as rather a shock when, on Halloween, there came a familiar tap at the window. Hedwig had returned, dishevelled and exhausted, followed by eight smaller, greyer owls of varying sizes. The nearest Harry had ever been able to reckon was that Hedwig had decided it was time to have a family of her own and had gone off to have one. It had made all the more sense when, with the passing of the years, it became apparent that Hedwig's children were also able to find Harry and Ginny wherever they might be.

"Are you all finished?" Ginny was saying to the baby. "Are you ready to meet your daddy?"

She handed the tiny bundle over to Harry, who placed a hand carefully behind the child's head. Harry couldn't stop the broad grin from spreading across his face, nor would he want to. "Hello there."

He held her so he could study her face for a moment, taking in the tiny turned-up nose, the rosebud mouth, the slate-grey eyes as they opened for a few seconds before she closed them again. It was difficult to tell whom she took after at this stage. Alexander had been born with the same eyes, but his had darkened to brown by the time he was a year old.

"What are we going to call her?" Harry asked Ginny, as he brought the baby up to his shoulder and began to pat gently.

"I think she looks like a Catherine," Ginny replied.

"Catherine Lily Potter, welcome to the world," Harry said to his daughter, although he had no doubt she'd already dropped off to sleep by now. "Do you want to have a nap?" he asked Ginny. She'd been up most of the previous night in labour.

"Oh, I might drop off, but I'm fine right where I am," she replied, snuggling up against his chest.

Harry sat for a while, holding his wife and child, thinking that while little Catherine had barely looked at him now, soon she'd be able to focus on him, to recognise him and know who he was. Her father. He remembered Alexander looking at him like that, with a baby's wide, trusting stare, perhaps breaking into one of those early smiles. It was difficult for him to fathom, a child's love for his parents, a love that came from nowhere, from no previous experience. Why would he be worthy of such simple and complete trust?

He'd been rather intimidated at the prospect of parenthood when he and Ginny had first begun to discuss the possibility seriously. They'd begun to talk about it off and on once they'd been married several years, but they'd kept delaying their decision. Their first years together hadn't always been easy, as they adjusted to both married life and getting by with no magic, so they'd thought it best to wait before having children so they could enjoy themselves once they'd settled in.

Then Molly had begun to drop broader and broader hints, but Harry had still been hesitant for a while. How could he -- someone who'd grown up in a loveless environment -- possibly be a good father? But upon reflection, he realised he didn't have any problems around his nieces and nephews. Feelings for them had developed in him surprisingly easily. And when he'd held his son for the first time, they'd been far, far stronger.

Now with his daughter it had happened again. He _was _capable of love. He should have known that, considering how long he'd loved Ginny and her family. Perhaps he wasn't the freak after all. The Dursleys had been the freaks.

"Ginny, do you think she's…"

He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. He felt that if he said it out loud he'd jinx something. But Ginny knew what he was talking about. "Time will tell, I suppose," she replied groggily. "Remember Alex?"

"Yeah, I remember…"

*

As he did at the end of every work day, Harry activated his Portkey and after a few moments appeared at the front door of Knightstone. He opened the front door, not quite knowing what sort of state he might find the house in but not really caring, either. Since the birth of his son almost ten months previous, the living room was more often than not in a state of happy chaos with all manner of toys strewn about the floor. The fact that Alexander was now crawling and pulling himself up into a standing position on anything handy hadn't helped matters. It had increased the mess potential by several hundred times, in fact.

To his surprise, however, he entered a perfectly tidy house. The silence in the room led Harry to conclude that Ginny must have taken Alexander outside to play in the late afternoon sun. Walking into the kitchen towards the back door, he was surprised to find Ginny sitting calmly at the table, sipping at a mug of tea and reading a magazine.

"Harry!" she said in surprise, looking up. "I didn't know you were home already!"

"I'm a bit earlier than usual," he said, smiling as Ginny got out of her seat and came over to welcome him home properly. "No sense in being part owner of your own broom-making outfit if you can't set your own hours from time to time, is there?"

Ginny nodded her agreement and settled into his embrace. Harry laid his cheek on the top of her head and enjoyed the moment of calm. It was actually unusual for him to get home this soon. In the early years of getting the business off the ground, he hadn't been able to afford to take too much time off. Now that their operation was becoming more and more successful, he still didn't have a lot of free time. But today had been different. It was almost as if he'd had a premonition that he ought to go home to his wife and son.

"It's quiet," Harry remarked after a few moments. "Has your mother taken Alexander for the afternoon?" He suddenly wondered if this had been the reason for his feeling he should come home. An empty house and several hours alone with his wife were beginning to sound like a very good idea. He pulled Ginny closer and began to move his hands in slow circles over her back, while bending his head to nibble at her ear.

"Don't get any ideas, Harry," Ginny said, ducking away. "He's here. He's still napping."

"He is?"

"He must be. You know that if he were awake he'd be sure to let us know about it."

Harry couldn't disagree with that. Alexander had recently decided it was great fun to pull up to the side of his cot and throw all his plush toys onto the floor. Unfortunately his fun only lasted as long as there were toys to throw. As soon as he ran out of entertainment, he'd begin to make his dissatisfaction known to everyone in the house.

"Shouldn't we get him up? He'll never go to sleep tonight at this rate."

Ginny sighed. "I suppose you're right. I just lost track of time. I'm not used to the quiet anymore."

"Sit down and finish your tea, Gin. I'll go get him."

Harry headed out of the kitchen and down the corridor to the nursery. This was an addition to the house they'd bought over ten years earlier. When Harry and Ginny had first discussed having children, they'd wondered about moving into larger quarters, but both of them had become attached to this little house. They'd gone as far as to buy it from their landlord, so that they now owned it outright, and they'd both agreed it might be better simply to add on to what they had here. 

As Harry approached the closed door to Alexander's room, he thought he heard a giggle. So the little imp was awake after all and amusing himself with his latest favourite game. Harry braced himself for the howling that was almost sure to begin any moment now, but it didn't come. Alexander must have just woken up.

Harry eased the door open. "Hello there," he greeted his black-haired son. 

The sturdy boy was holding onto the bars of his cot with one chubby hand and clutching Ginny's old stuffed dragon in the other. Upon seeing his father, he smiled, showing his two front teeth and exclaimed, "Da!"

Harry's smile broadened. "Yes, that's right. Daddy's ho-" His words were cut off as the dragon hit Harry squarely in the forehead. Harry laughed. "With an arm like that…"

He stopped, horrified. He'd been about to say his son was a Chaser in the making, but he couldn't allow himself to think in those terms. He couldn't see any reason his and Ginny's children would possess any magical ability when neither of their parents did. He couldn't let himself entertain the idea that his own son would ever know what it was like to fly on a broom his own father had designed, the wind in his hair. 

Harry forced a smile back to his face. Alexander was out of toys to throw. It was time to get him out of his cot before he decided to complain. But then Harry caught the look on his son's face and stopped. Alexander looked as if he was concentrating very hard at something, and Harry waited, resigned to having to deal with a soiled nappy in a few minutes.

But Alexander wasn't working at filling his nappy; he was staring at the dragon on the floor. Harry followed the baby's gaze, and his own eyes widened in amazement as he thought he saw the dragon move slightly. Harry shook his head. He must have imagined it.

In the next instant, Harry knew he hadn't imagined it. The dragon levitated a few inches off the floor before falling again. He looked back at his son; Alexander's brow was furrowed in concentration.

"Ginny," Harry called hoarsely, taking a step backwards. He could barely get his voice to work. "Ginny, come here."

The dragon was hovering off the floor once again. It was rising into the air. Alexander was holding out a hand to it.

The sound of Ginny's footsteps sounded in the corridor. "Harry, what is it?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"Look," was all Harry could manage to say. 

The dragon was now in Alexander's hand. The baby was smiling and holding out his toy.

"What happened?" asked Ginny. She hadn't seen it, Harry realised.

"I… I don't know," Harry said. "I… It looked like a Summoning Charm."

"Harry…"

"I'm serious, Gin. Look."

Alexander was doing it again. He was staring hard at a plush bear, which was lying in the corner. After a few attempts, the bear levitated off the floor and floated into the baby's chubby hand.

Ginny let out a gasp of amazement, and Harry felt his throat begin to burn. Ginny stepped over into Harry's arms, the tears already beginning to leak from her eyes. Harry's own eyes were beginning to water as he held his wife tightly against him. He'd never thought it possible.

"He's magical, Gin. He's magical," Harry whispered into her hair. He began to shudder in his amazement. He felt a sob rise in his throat, but he allowed it escape. It was a sound of joy.

He'd always known there was a chance that his and Ginny's children might be magical, but he really didn't know enough about it to be able to say how great the chances of it happening were. There was also an ever-present sense in the back of Harry's mind that if he voiced his hopes aloud something might happen to keep them from coming true. At times he'd wondered if Ginny felt the same way, because it was a subject they'd never discussed before. It looked as if they'd have to now, and they would. As soon as Harry recovered the use of his voice.

*

The announcer's voice brought Harry back to the present. The Ravenclaw team was filing out to the field as they were called upon. The names of the two final players announced echoed through the stadium as the Ravenclaw supporters went wild. Anastasia Krum walked out onto the field behind Beater Irene Finlay, her black hair flowing out behind her in the breeze. She moved gracefully over the ground in direct contrast to her father, but she was every bit as deadly in the air as Viktor had been.

"And now the Gryffindor team!" roared the announcer.

Harry, Ginny, and the rest of the assembled Weasleys shifted forwards in their seats.

"Weasley!"

George let out a loud whoop as his son McCarthy came onto the field in his scarlet robes, his Phoenix clutched in one hand, and his Beater's bat in the other.

"Hackett! 

Harry felt Ginny lean closer to him and grasp his hand. "You know, when I look down and see this, I _know_ it was all worth it," Ginny whispered in Harry's ear.

"Johnson!"

Harry was shocked at her words. Even though he'd heard her say them in the past, he still had trouble believing she really meant them. "You do? But… You lost so much."

"Bloom!"

"But I got more than I gave, didn't I?" Ginny said.

"Sawyer!"

"How do you reckon that?" Harry asked.

"Miller!"

"Harry, I may not have my powers anymore, but I've learned to live without them. And I have you and Alex and Catherine. What more could I want? Gefinn may have cheated me out of my magic, but in the end she gave me what I needed most. Because I don't think we'd have been able to stick it out the way we have if I hadn't lost my powers. So, yes it was worth it. I wouldn't change a thing."

"And… Potter!"

Harry's heart swelled with pride as he watched his thirteen-year-old son file out onto the field, the last of the Gryffindor team. Something told him that Stace Krum's perfect streak for catching the Snitch in every game she played in was about to end today.

THE END

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A/N: Here we go. Time for the huge final author's note. First of all, I know that there are those readers who will be disappointed that Harry and Ginny never got their powers back. I just want to say that I felt it made for a better story this way. My original intention actually had been to give Harry his powers back, but a review at the end of "Ginny's Gift" made me change my mind (scroll down for Runechild's review: _). Yes, I'm blaming it all on Rune… Well, not really, so don't send him any nasty emails. I read his review and realised he was right. I thought it would make the story better and more realistic. I also feel that by giving Harry his powers back it would have cheapened the sacrifice he made to defeat Voldemort._

I realise there are those readers who will disagree with that. I still hope you enjoyed the ride. Even though I didn't tie up everything neatly in a bow, I still feel I gave Harry what he most wants and needs in life: love and family. I also see it a bit like this: life isn't perfect, and you don't always get everything you want, but if you get what you need, you're doing all right. ::pauses to hum Rolling Stones tunes::

I'd like to address another issue some readers have brought up. I know I haven't shown a whole lot of Ginny dealing with her loss of powers. Part of the reason for this is that the story is already far, far longer than I expected it to be, and I didn't want to drag things out any further. Another reason is that I feel I was essentially telling Harry's story. I do feel that Ginny hadn't fully come to terms with her loss at the end of chapter 28, but the real test hadn't come yet. She's really going to feel it once they're out on their own and she's doing simple chores she used to be able to perform with magic, and it's all going to hit her. I may write an outtake or two over the summer to show this.

But don't hold your breath. I'm planning on taking a break from fic for the foreseeable future. I certainly don't see myself doing another novel-length project. If I'm going to spend the time and effort it takes to write something this huge, I think I'd rather stand a chance at being able to sell it. So don't expect anything but shorter pieces from me from now on.

On to the thank-yous.

I owe the largest debt of thanks to Maid Marian_, without whose help I would have become stuck way back on about, well, chapter one, really, and I'd have never finished this in a million years. She didn't want me to put her name on this, but in all honesty she is the co-author of this story. She stood in the background, blocked scenes with me, role-played dialogue, and basically cracked the whip, saying, "I want 1000 words in the next half hour." And believe me when Marian says jump, you jump._

Secondly to my betas. A huge thanks for all the time you put in reading through my huge chapters and offering suggestions. All my betas are excellent authors in their own right, and I urge you to check out their work: Amy_, _Firebolt909_, _Harpinred_, _Jo_, and _Magoo_._

Finally to all those of you who encouraged me through your reviews. I've tried to include everyone who has reviewed up until the posting of this chapter, and if I've left anyone off, I apologise. I still appreciate the feedback you gave. And if you happen along and review after this is all posted and finished, know that I still appreciate your feedback just as much.

~*Embyr Dragon*~, A. S., abigfan, Adrianna, Aibhinn, ajmezzo, Aletes Bagha, Alkari, Alex, Alia, allykatbri, Amanda, Amber, Amenes, amulder, amy, ancarett, andrea47, Angel, angelkb, Angieshphinx!,animegirl-mika, antoniusangel, apassov, Ara Kane, archigulati, Arlene, arne, Arnel, Arya Precantri, Ashby, Ashley, Aunt Minny, AuroraBlack12345, Autumn's Dawn, Azkaban Canuck, b4me, B4zkooka Jules, Bandy, bane, Baron Von Krogg, bart, bEaNZ, bel, Bella O, BJHage, Blackwolf Dark Saint Cometh, Blue_Eyed_Athena, Blue Eyes, bloodymery, bloop, BluzJedi, B. Nonymous, bobbie, bohdi, Bonnie, bookwrm1989, Brita, Britta, Brittney, Broceliande, brucenadeau, Bucky03, bumblepuppy, Cailin, Caitlyn Mc, Cambot1, Carissa Lynn, CassieM, cat, catakit, Catastrophic Incident, catseye9, ceci, celestine de karamel, Celloannie, Celtic Ember, Cera, CG, chaser ryo, Chosenblue, Chrissy, Ciara, Ciara Moondagger, ciarach, Claire, clare, Cleo_Longstock, clifjumpr13, clipper, Crazy 4 Dumbledore, Crookshanks1460, coolone007, crazyfriendsfan, Crossoverauthorofdoom, crouching-dragon, Crystalwolf, Cyclo, Cygnus Crux, Dan, Danielle, Daughter of the Forest , dcpgirl, diskobulus, dragon-gurl, DryRain, dr. z, Dulcineah1, e Void e, eca celli, Eclipse, Edina Brya, eedoe, Ekaterin, Eleanna3, Elizabeth (iviolinist), Elizabeth (Raven Snape), Ellen, Ellen MacKenzie, Emily, emma, Emma Weasley, Erica Evans, Farie, Fiona, Firebolt909, FireWulf, fluffymuffin, Foxfur, FPW, freshangelicbabe, fsecada, Genny Weasley, Georgia Russell, Ginny, Ginny1946, ginny5, glittersteph, glitzysparkle, Gogirl, golden phoenix, gpbpandoc4, GreenEyes13, greer harper, Gridley, gundamhardcore, Gwennan, gykdf, gypsythief, Hannah, harpinred01, HarrysLilWitch, Heather, Hello, Herbie, hermione8meg, hermionelilygranger, Honor, hthsldr2003, Hypancistrus, Impmom, Inken, Irene Finlay, itsme07863, Iviolinist, J, J?GryffiN2003, Jack Jarvey, Jade Sabre, jafreak, Jamesi, James Potter, Jamie, Jaques Rico, jascat, Jasmine, jasper, Jayce, Jayne (Molly McGonagall), Jenna James, Jedi Tess of Gryffindor, JenBachand, Jenna Mae02, Jennifer Lupin, Jenny Lim, Jer, jessicad102, Jessica Tate, jessie, Jezzard, JF, Jme13, John, Joyce, Julephenia, Julia, Julia Potter, Julie, jumping jill, just another g/h fan, kaeros, Kamna, Kat, Kathleen, Kathryn, Kaylynne Jenn, kaz, Kelley, Kelly, kenisha, kensai, kirsty, kim22041, kimk, kizmet, kjirstyn2023, KobeG, Krista of StarTress, kungfubaby, Kyizi, Lady Brannon, LadyChi21, LadySorceress, Lamy, Lanthal, Lar, Laura, Lbdawger, Lemon Head, Lesa, Letta, Lilac, Lilacbearry, lilangelsmith, Lily515, Lioness-07863, Lisa, LisaRosa, Lisie, Little Blue Mouse, LittleDarkarma, Liz N, LizWeasley221, Lizzielu, Lone Astronomer, Lone Paladin, loonie, LooLai, Loopyloony, LoreLai, Lordanhur, Lourdes, LoXiE the PloXiE, luvsbitca, Lydia-Silver-Maiden, Lyra Granger, Madame Snuffles, magoo42, Malaleen, Malfidus, MandaB, marauder kinchu, Mary Potter, Marizee, Master, matthias893, may (on ff.n), may (on SQ), Max Sterling83, meagan, megarooni, megs, Merusa, MichelleTheWeeird, midejitsu, MidniteSunrise, Mike, Mistri, MK, mm, mmherman, Molly McGonagall, Muggle Molly, Nana-HPFan, Nathan Celly, nefarious vixen, neopyro, nesscafe, Niccolo Javier, nicloetje, Nicole, Nicole Gray, Nimbus2002, nite-freeze, No longer a Lone Wolf, noji8, noodles, Nosgoroth, oceansun, Ookii Mamoru, oybolshoi, Pandat7, Patrick Nakasone, PatriotChick, peaceblossom, Penguin, Perla, philbo41, phoenixwings, Piett, Pip Gurlie, Ponudo, Potteranne, Professor Davies, Professor Jewels, Professor Jo, pub, puckmonkey, Puffy, puja, Punkin, Pyrocat Moonstalker, Ramos, Red Roses, Rhiain, Rhiannon, Ricardo, Richard Blaber, Rodimus, RogueAngel1998, Rosanna Eleaonor Nemes, Rowena, Runechild, Ryoko (Stevie), Ryuko DragonHalf, sabacat, Sabby13, Sabre, Sara, Sarah, Sea0tter12, SevrenLerous, shasta53, Shell, ShellyK, Sherylyn, Sherman, ShibbySpunkyChick, Silent Phoenix, Shilpa, shorty524, Sikokid, Simon's Flower, sk8ter-chick-4, skittle, sleekbelle, Slow Fox, Snape lover, SockiePuck, song*breeze, sphinx_star, Spiffy Chan, Stanley Glass, Starbucksx, starheart20, starwest45, Steel Knight, StElmo, Stephanie Cook, Strum, Strzblue, sucker4hpromance, sunsethill, Susan, suzyq, syntron, Szandara, Tayloire, techmeyer, Temporarily Unavailable, tenaj, tenebrae, THECATWILLDANCE, The Charmed One, the girl, The Morning Starr, The White Lily, The Yellow Dart, ThomasJ, TigerLily, Tiger Lily8186, Tiggy162004, tigress, tigress247, TiraborAranoth, Tracey Zeng, trina, Tzerre, uknowwhoslittleprincess, usakoesm,Wanderingstar11, Watcher, Weapotternger, weasley girl (Amy), weeoo0, whitney cliett, Wild Sapphic, Willbot, wiseFool13, wslamexe, vanessa, x velouria, xaebhal, Xanthias, zequist (eaction83), Zinnia Evans

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Thanks everyone! Enjoy book five. I won't be much longer now!

Cheers,

Anne/Ashwinder


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